Shadowrun: Paid in Blood
by JonWilhoit
Summary: Peaches thought he had left shadowrunning behind, but someone else had other plans. Uprooted from his home, he is thrust into a confused morass of betrayal and treachery, the price of which can only be paid in blood.
1. Chapter 1

**Paid in Blood**

_"If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?" _

-William Shakespeare, _The Merchant of Venice_

**Chapter 1**

Standing before the bedroom window, I watched as rivulets of rain water cascaded down the glass. Somewhere out in the concrete jungle, a siren howled. Night reigned over Seattle, but still the city glowed. Despite the rain, streetlights, billboards, and neon signs combined to cast a multi-hued pall over the Emerald City. But no matter how much light shone over Seattle, its grime-streaked walls still harbored deep shadows—deeper, I think, than any other city I've ever known. Predators lurked in those shadows—both men and beasts and things that were neither men nor beasts.

But that wasn't what kept me up that night. I wasn't afraid of what dangers lurked in Seattle's darkened alleyways. It was a dog eat dog world out on the streets, but I knew I could still hold my own. Three years after retiring from that life, I was still a lot tougher and a lot meaner than any of those gutter punks could ever hope to be. No, that wasn't it at all. What I was afraid of was that some forgotten aspect of my past would emerge from that darkness and latch onto me once more—that the comfortable life I had constructed around me would crumble like a house of cards, and I would be left naked with nothing but an empty, wasted existence to show for it.

I sighed and reached up to run my right hand over my shaved scalp. The flesh along my skull prickled into goose bumps as the chill metal passed, sending an involuntary shudder down my spine. It had been ten years since I lost the meat and replaced it with cold hard steel, but I still couldn't get used to feeling the steel against my skin. Even when I slept, I involuntarily kept the chromed fist away from my side. It felt cold and foreign, like a part of myself that I didn't want to acknowledge.

But that's what we had to do back then. I was big, yeah—bigger than most of my kind, but physical ability wasn't always enough in those days. My body was criss-crossed with more scars than I could count. God knows there were enough of them to kill an ordinary man ten times over, but I had pulled through it all, thanks to the 'ware.

Back then, we wouldn't hesitate to go under the knife if it meant we could get even a slight edge on the street. For a fistful of cash, they would scoop out your insides and replace the fragile flesh with resilient steel. They gave me new eyes and new ears, then pumped my system full of artificial enzymes to increase reaction and reinforce my bones. Hell, I even had them install a machine pistol in my hand.

That was how it was for everyone back then—back there. We willingly gave up a part of ourselves—a part of our essence. If you believe some of those religious whackjobs out there, we gave up a part of our souls too. But we didn't buy into in any of that drek. We didn't believe in religion. We believed in lead, guts, and street cred. Without one, you couldn't have the others. I paid them all the money I had to transform me into a living weapon.

But that was a lifetime ago. Things had changed since then. Back then I strove to be the best deniable corporate stooge that money could buy, scraping together a pittance compared to what the corporate big wigs raked in due to my actions. To them I was nothing. On paper, I didn't even exist. I was a ghost. I was a shadowrunner. But no longer.

The rustle of bed sheets disturbed me from my reverie. I turned back toward the bed, looking to the prostrate form stretched out over it. Sugar stretched in her sleep, reaching up to push a stray lock of dark hair behind the silvery datajack protruding from her temple. She must have been having a good dream because she smiled, biting her upper lip against one of her tusks.

She was an ork, just like me. With a sloping brow and protruding lower tusks, we looked like something out of the head of J. R. R. Tolkien. But the Awakening, when magic had come back into the world, the whole slobbering barbarian image had been shattered. Things aren't as simple as fairy tales would have you believe. Reality is a lot more complex than anyone wants to admit.

And just like reality, the business I was involved in was complicated—so complicated that one misstep could spell the end. Sugar and I both knew the risks. We told ourselves it was something our kind had to live with, but it didn't make it any easier. It wore on us. She grew tired of watching me head off to another corporate enclave, wondering if that would be the last time she ever saw me again. And I grew to hate the sight of her jack into the matrix on another data steal, not knowing whether or not some corporate black IC would fry her brains out of her skull before my very eyes. So we quit. We retired from life in the shadows and tried to settle down like normal, law abiding citizens.

Nevertheless, old habits died hard. I still wore that old armored jacket whenever I went out, and even as I slept, I still made sure to keep the pistol in my hand loaded. And sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night unable to sleep for no good reason at all. It was illogical, I know, but sometimes that on-edge feeling came over me, and I just couldn't force myself to relax.

I sighed and headed for the bedroom door. Standing around rehashing the past wouldn't get me to sleep any faster, but maybe a full belly would. My stomach was growling anyway, so a midnight snack couldn't hurt. As my hand touched upon the doorknob, though, the bedclothes rustled again.

"Peaches?"

No matter how many times I heard that street name, it still brought the hint of a smile to my lips. It had started as a joke—a nickname one of the older guys decided to call me one day. But unlike most nicknames, it had stuck. That name followed me up from the streets, and stuck by me when just about every other aspect of my essence changed and molted away. I never really did fit the name, but some how the irony of it all fitted me perfectly.

I turned back to the bed where Sugar lay propped up on one elbow, her eyes and datajack glistening in the darkness.

"I'm here baby. Just go back to sleep."

She mumbled something unintelligible and lay back down. I eased the door open and slipped out into the hallway, making my way through the apartment to the kitchen.

The place wasn't overly huge, but it was big enough. Located in a relatively safe neighborhood in the Metroplex's Bellevue district, it didn't have very tight security, but it boasted some of the best neighbors around—the kind that minded their own business. Even better was the fact that Apartment 105 didn't even exist—at least, not officially. In exchange for a job or two, a friend in a rather high place arranged for a computer glitch to "lose" the location, rent, and ownership information on the apartment. In this digital world where bills and payments are kept track of almost entirely by computers, it was startlingly easy to lose property in the shuffle of mega-corp assets.

I passed into the den and switched on the trideo set. The three dimensional image of a plastic-faced anchorman sprang up over the projector, bathing the room in a flickering blue glow. I keyed the volume down to a low murmur as the anchor droned on about some company being investigated by the UCAS government and Corporate Council for "corrupt business practices." I didn't catch the corporation's name, but it hardly mattered. With the exception of one, they were all the same brand of asshole. Anyway, "corrupt business practices" was a misnomer. In this day and age, all businesses were corrupt. How did I know? Because they were the same drekheads I spent seven years of my life working for.

I wasn't interested in hearing any of it, so instead I moved into the kitchen. The soft glow of the trideo barely penetrated the kitchen's darkness, but I still didn't turn on the light. I switched my cybernetic vision to thermographic and followed the chilly outline offered by the refrigerator.

I opened it up, disengaging the thermals as the refrigerator's golden light fell over the kitchen. I stood there for a moment or two trying to decide what I wanted to eat. Finally I sighed and grabbed a beer. I had turned back toward the den about to twist off the long neck's cap when I heard something. I didn't know what it was or where I'd heard it, but I froze with beer in hand, peering curiously toward the flickering den.

"Sugar, that you?" I called out.

No answer.

I dialed up the hearing amplification on my cyber ears, filtering out the sound of the newscaster's voice with the implanted sound filter. First I heard the sound of my own breath, and then the pounding of my heart. And then I heard it. It would have been imperceptible to the naked ear, but there it was: the shallow breathing of someone who didn't want to be heard.

Suddenly there was a rush of movement and a black figure appeared in the doorway. A ski mask covered his face, but I didn't need to see his expression to know his intent. The submachine gun he held in both hands said it all. He started to lift the weapon to his shoulder.

I sprang into motion without thinking, hurling the beer bottle as hard as I could in his general direction. He raised the submachine gun to ward off the blow, and the bottle struck the weapon, shattering into a shower of glass and foam as the man reeled backward from the unexpected missile. I didn't wait to see any more. Instead I twisted and ran for where I thought the kitchen table should have been.

It was all I could do to keep moving, raising my arms protectively over my face as the soft _chuff-chuff _of a suppressed automatic weapon sounded from behind me. Splinters of wood and plasticrete showered my body as bullets ripped into the floor and walls. I dove. My vision exploded into stars as I collided head-first into one of the chairs, but I pushed the pain aside and somehow managed to flip the table before several slugs thudded into the upturned furniture.

I reached around the table with my cybernetic hand, triggering a blast from the machine pistol at where I thought the bastard would be. There was a shout and a curse as bullets ripped into the wall.

"Frag, he's got a gun!" the man cried out—to whom, I couldn't tell, but it obviously meant he had help.

I didn't have time to ponder it any longer, because the next moment I heard him lurch forward, feet pounding on the tile. I snatched up one of the chairs and rose over the table, flinging it as hard as I could.

The chair whipped against the man's shins, entangling itself with his churning legs. He pitched forward, landing hard on his shoulder as he struggled to maintain his grip on the SMG. He tried to twist and bring his weapon to bear on me, but I was quicker. My machine pistol chattered away, slamming into the downed man's shoulder in a bright spray of crimson. I let the recoil ride the barrel upward, stitching a short line of bullet holes into his trachea. Blood spurted from the wound as his body began to go into convulsions. He clamped down on the trigger spasmodically, emptying the rest of his clip into the wall beside me in a flurry of shell casings and dry wall.

I didn't have time to savor the victory, though, because another submachine gun opened up from the den doorway. I dropped behind the table again as a long burst of automatic fire tore through the area I had just been standing in. I reached over the table with my cybernetic hand to offer return fire. The shots missed horribly, and soon another long blast from the doorway followed. We traded shots back and forth as wood splintered and tile shattered, the sustained bursts ripping through what was left of the table. At any minute I expected a bullet to find me and splatter my guts all over the kitchen wall, but suddenly everything went silent as the magazine clicked empty.

Seizing the opportunity, I sprang up into a crouch, hands braced above the edge of the hole-ridden table. Another figure stood in the middle of the doorway, clothed and masked just like the other with a submachine gun cradled in his arms. I aimed without thinking, mentally keying the trigger before he could get to cover and reload. But instead of the long burst of auto fire I had expected, there was only a hollow click.

"Oh shit," I groaned.

The man in the doorway stepped forward with a confident swagger. The spent clip clattered to the ground as he began to deliberately select another.

Like a caged animal, I desperately looked for a way out, mind racing a mile a minute. The man across from me slammed in the new clip and reached up to chamber the first bullet.

That was when I stopped thinking. It was like I was back on the streets all over again. Logic and reason went out the window, and a sudden wave of bestial anger surged through my senses. I was no longer a rational meta-being. I was an animal. Before I knew it, I was moving, charging full tilt toward the advancing gunman.

I lifted the table up before me, slamming it and myself into the bastard with bone-shattering force. He tried to bring his weapon to bear, but the table struck before he got it all the way up, sending his arm wheeling upward as his finger clamped down on the trigger. Slugs blasted into the ceiling, showering us with plasticrete as he was thrown backward through the living room doorway.

I leapt over the table and pounced on him before he had a chance to recover. He tried to bring the gun around again, but I gave him the back of my hand and swatted the gun out of his grip. Using my body as leverage, I slammed my fist into the masked face beneath me. Instead of flesh and bone, though, I struck hard steel. I howled, pulling my bruised hand back into my gut.

The intruder capitalized on the moment, wriggling partly out from under me to free his arms as three-inch long steel blades slid out from under his fingertips. He lashed out, savagely swiping his cat's claws across my face. I cried out and fell back, my face stinging where the raw flesh met with open air. Blood began to pour into my eyes as I struggled to get up, but the hardwood floor beneath me was slick from it all. I slipped and crashed to the ground.

The gillette was on his feet before I knew it. "Now you're gonna die, you fragging trog," he growled, brandishing his hand razors with malicious glee. He took a step forward.

And then the center of his chest exploded in a spray of crimson pulp as a pair of shots rang out. He hit the ground hard, gurgling softly before finally laying still.

Behind him, Sugar stood with my old revolver held in both hands. The Ruger Super Warhawk glinted in the darkness, its chromed surface reflecting the muted light from the trideo. Sugar's eyes were wide with terror, but her hands held the weapon unwaveringly as she pumped two more rounds into the man's back.

Slowly I picked myself up off the floor.

She looked up from the body almost as if noticing me for the first time. "Peaches. Are you-"

"I'm fine," I said, closing the distance between us. I reached out to take the pistol from her now-shaking hands. Its weight was firm and reassuring. It seemed to calm the palsy of my own limbs, feeling the inscribed ivory grip beneath my palm once more.

"My God, your face," she muttered softly.

"We have to go."

"Sit down and let me clean you up a bit."

"No," I said a bit more sternly than I had intended. She gave me a hurt look, but I tried to ignore it. "Get your things packed. We need to be out of here in five minutes. They could have back-up on the way."

She started to protest, but I took her arm and steered her back to the bedroom. As soon as we got there, she started to rummage through the closet.

"One bag," I cautioned. "We have to travel light."

She gave me a slight scowl as if she resented the obvious statement but set to work anyway, cramming clothes and computer equipment into a suit case.

In the mean time I went into the bathroom, flipping on the light to look myself in the mirror. The breeder had gotten me pretty good, evidenced by the trio of slashes stretching down the right side of my face. The blood flow had pretty well stopped, but it had already drained down my neck and onto my bare chest and shoulders. The gashes stung like a bitch, but I managed to clean off most of the blood with some warm water. Around that point the wounds started to ooze again, so I took the emergency med kit out of one of the drawers and used some butterfly bandages to hold the wounds shut until I could get some proper stitches.

Sugar had packed by then and was hurriedly pulling a sweater on over her tank top. "What about you?" she called out. "Aren't you going to pack?"

"Already am." I reached into the closet and grabbed the sports duffle lying on the floor—an emergency bag in case everything went to drek and you had to get the hell out of Dodge in a hurry. It was an old habit from a life of running, and one that I would always be thankful for hanging on to. I tossed it onto the bed beside hers and went to the closet again.

I pulled on an old pair of jeans and then snatched up a black T-shirt off the floor, putting it on as well. I donned my old shoulder holster and shoved the Warhawk into its accustomed spot before finally grabbing the armored secure jacket off the coat rack.

"Are you ready to go?" Sugar stood with luggage in hand, wearing a rain jacket with her hair pulled back into a short pony tail.

"Yeah—no, wait."

She stopped half way to the door. I turned back and snatched the digital camera off of the dresser.

"What the hell is that for?"

"Evidence," I said as I breezed by her into the hall and out into the kitchen.

I approached the first attacker I had shot, cautiously stepping around the blood that had pooled on the floor around him. Gingerly I reached down and peeled the mask off to reveal his face. It was a mess of blood, but I could make out youthful human features beneath it all, blue eyes staring upward with mouth opened in a silent scream. The nub of a green mohawk stood out over his scalp and several piercings dotted his face. He didn't look like anybody special, but I took a quick snap shot of his face anyway and then moved to the living room.

The other one still lay face down in the carpet. I hit the light switch and then flipped him over. Again I pulled the mask off to look the would-be-killer in the eyes, but as the mask came off, a tangle of dirty-blonde hair spilled out from the hood, framing the steely visage beneath. To my surprise, the he wasn't a he at all—it was a woman. What's more, chrome plating, the remnant of some injury or surgery, lined the entire left side of her face.

"Do you know these guys?" Sugar asked.

I shook my head, standing up once again. "No, but I'm sure someone does." I snapped a photograph of her and then picked up my bag again. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Sugar nodded and followed me out the door.

The rain was still coming down as we left the apartment building. The city's neon lights lit up the night sky like a gaudy Christmas tree, but the street around us was strangely dark except for the one bare streetlight hovering over the doorway. Despite the urgency of the situation, I paused, lingering just beyond the doorway to the apartment—the first real home I had ever known.

Sugar seemed to sense my feelings and put a hand sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "You said it yourself," she said quietly. "We have to go."

"Yeah, I know." I gave her a shadow of a smile. "Let's blow."

We turned and headed off down the sidewalk. As we left the lone streetlight behind, the shadows enveloped our retreating forms, hungrily descending upon us once more to welcome us back into the fold.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bottoms Up was the usual kind of seedy strip joint you could find in just about any part of the 'plex. It was the kind of place squatters went to spend what little money they still had and run-down strippers went to wither up and die. A pink neon sign above the awning blinked incessantly, advertising nude girls and 3 nuyen vodkas. The dive's brick face was covered in grime, much like the dirty mugs of the squatters and winos that slouched beneath the awning, huddled next to each other for warmth against the chill rain. I left Sugar in the van and jogged across the street to the front entrance. The squatters hardly gave me a glance as I shook the rain off of my jacket and stepped inside.

The first thing that struck me was the smell. It was that sick combination of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and sex common to all strip clubs. The inside was nearly as dark as the outside except for the black-lit stage where a pair of strippers danced and gyrated to the pounding beats that reverberated throughout the club. The bouncer, a young man with a flat top and several tattoos that he thought made him look older, sat on a stool near the door.

He got off his chair as I entered. I didn't know him, but evidently he recognized me because he flashed me a shit eating grin. "Good to see you again, Peaches. You know the deal. Check your weapons here."

I opened my jacket and slipped the Warhawk out of its holster, handing it to him hilt-first. He worked his mouth curiously, running his hand over the inscription on the barrel. "_With this bullet, I thee wed_," he intoned aloud. "Heh, sounds cool. What's it mean?"

"I'll tell you some other time—maybe when you're older." He started to protest, but I ignored him. Instead I turned my back on him and headed for the usual table.

The booth sat to the right of the center stage. A human and a dwarf sat on one side of the table. The human wore a pair of dark sunglasses even in the gloom of the club and had a datajack set against his temple. His Amerindian-toned skin was framed by the ebony locks that fell down to his shoulders, and he wore a wife beater with a pair of oddly out-dated suspenders. In the three years since I'd seen him, he hadn't changed a bit. He went by the name Jesus, though whether that was his real name or a moniker he had adopted to sate his cosmic sense of humor, I didn't know. He claimed to be blind, but with the advent of cybernetics, I found it hard to believe. Whatever his true nature, though, I had learned to trust him—as much as you could trust a fixer, anyway.

The dwarf I had never seen before. Strange for a dwarf, he was mostly clean shaven with a pair of long side burns and a pointed nose that made him look like a badger. He wore his hair short and had a nasty scar that ran down his neck. He ogled one of the dancers like a hungry dog eyeing a steak as she shook her ass over the table, but Jesus didn't seem to notice. He kept his gaze forward, his face expressionless. As I reached the table, he turned to rake his sightless gaze across me and flash me a knowing smile.

"Peaches, good to see you again."

"You too, Jesus," I said, a bit unnerved at the precognizant recognition. I slid into the seat across from him and reached over the table to take his offered hand. "I didn't know you were going to bring company."

The fixer shrugged. "This is Boris. He's an associate of mine. On the phone you said you had something to show me, so I figured I was going to need an extra pair of eyes." He chuckled at his own joke, but I didn't feel much like laughing.

The dwarf tore his eyes away from the gyrating stripper to give me a once over. He frowned. "Damn boy, what happened to your face?"

I swallowed a retort and simply glowered at him. "Couple a' yabos busted into my place last night and tried to geek me."

"Is that what this is about?" Jesus asked.

"Yeah, I think they were just some street muscle. If they were real pros, I wouldn't be alive to talk about it. Anyway, I took a couple pictures on my way out. Take a look." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a slim optical chip, sliding it across the table.

The dwarf snatched the chip off of the table and took a personal secretary out from the folds of his coat, inserting the chip into it. He hit a few keys, then gave a low whistle. "You worked these two over pretty good."

I shrugged. "Yeah, well at the time, they weren't too interested in holding still for a photo shoot. You recognize any of them?"

"I've never seen the young one before, but the girl with the Phantom of the Opera mask—yeah, I've seen her." He ejected the chip and tossed it back to me. "She goes by the name of Mantis, specializes in wet-work and things like that. Mean little bitch, too."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I said, indicating the wound on my face.

Jesus smirked. "Well, jokes aside, what is it you need help with?"

"I'm looking for information on these guys—who they were working for, why, where they live, all that drek."

"I'll see what I can dig up. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Sugar and I need a safehouse to lay low for a little while."

Jesus nodded. "I think I can fix you up with a place."

"How much?"

"For all of it? A thousand sounds about right."

"Done. You want certified cred?"

He smiled. "Always."

The dwarf fished a cred stick reader out of his coat and held it out to me. I inserted my cred stick in and authorized the payment. After Boris grunted his approval, Jesus nodded in satisfaction.

"The flop is in Renton. Hillside apartments, room 504. I'll put a call in to the desk manager. He'll let you in. Anythign else?"

I shook my head and moved to get up.

"Say Peaches, didn't I set you up on a couple jobs for Ayanami Incorporated way back when?"

I stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah, so what?"

"Well evidently they're starting to throw their weight around again."

I frowned. Ayanami was a mom and pop corporation based in Seattle. They didn't have that much weight to throw around, but his comment piqued my interest anyway. "How's that?" I asked slowly.

"They're looking to hire another team of runners for a job. If you're back in the game again, I figured you might want to take them up on the offer."

I shook my head. "I ain't back in it for biz. This is personal."

"It's when you take things personal that you start making mistakes," he warned. "If you keep a cool head, you'll live longer."

"Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing."

The fixer shrugged, "Suit yourself."

"Yeah well, we'll be in touch."

"I'll let you know as soon as I find something out."

I nodded my thanks and headed for the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hillside Apartments was an eight story concrete tenement on the lower west side of the Renton district. The boiler didn't work half the time, the elevator was permanently stuck on the seventh floor, and for some reason the fifth floor hallway absolutely stank of curry. The apartment itself only had four rooms—a bedroom, living room, kitchen, and bathroom, all of which were shabbily furnished. It was old and out of date, and if the rumors were true, slated for demolition by the city housing authority, but for now it suited our needs just fine.

At the moment, I sat on the couch in front of the trideo, straining to hear the news program over the Pakistani couple arguing next door. Sugar and I had been up all night waiting in a twenty-four hour ask-no-questions emergency clinic, but even as the sun peeked over the the city's steel spires, I still couldn't sleep. The people at the clinic had stiched up the wounds on my face pretty well, but the pain killer they gave me had worn off by that time, and my face was stinging like a fire ant bite from hell. What's more, my body just plain hurt. After three years out of the game, it wasn't used to running, dodging, and tumbling all over the ground like it used to. The night's escapades had taken a toll on me—I was getting old.

What's more, I just couldn't relax. All I could think about were the rapid-paced events of the last twenty-four hours. My mind was still awash with questions that I just couldn't answer—who was behind it all, and why? I could think of plenty of people I had slotted off in the course of my life, but none that would go to the time and effort to have me tracked down and killed three years after the fact. None of it made any sense, and the more I wondered about it, the more confused I got.

A noise in the kitchen stirred me from my musings—probably Sugar returning to her meat. She had spent the past two hours in the matrix—the virtual reality system that connected civization together—searching for any clues about Mantis or anything the slitch had been involved with, and I fervently hoped she had finally hit pay data. I stood and moved over to the kitchen.

As I rounded the corner, she sat up at the table and yanked the cord out of her jack. She looked at me sleepily, blinking as if she'd just awoken from a nap.

"Find anything?" I asked.

She shook her head, "Nothing that would actually help. I found a few references to the name, but like I said, not real information. I did get a message though. It's from Jesus." She hit a key on the cyberdeck and the printer spit out a sheet of paper. She handed it to me.

The message consisted of one line: "Buena Vista Apartments, Appt. #213."

"Looks like Jesus came through for us," she said lightly.

"You wanna check it out?"

"Aren't you tired?" she asked with a frown.

"Nah, I had a nap," I lied. "I'm good."

"Alright, then let's go."

We headed for the door.

I gently slowed the van to a stop at the curb and threw it into park. The whole street was full of run-down apartment buildings and abandoned store fronts. Trash and debris littered the sidewalks, and half the vehicles on the road were propped up on cinder blocks. In front of a four-story brick building, a faded wooded sign read "Buena Vista Apartments."

In the days when the Redmond district was full of hope and promise, the building had been painted a lively sky blue, but as the years rolled by and the dreams died, that hopeful blue faded to soot-stained white. I knew that faded optimism far too well. After all, I'd grown up here.

A quartet of leather-clad teenagers all with bright green mohawks lounged on the stoop, admiring the bikes parked nearby and talking amongst themselves. I let my gaze linger on one of the motorcycles—a Harley Scorpion. Back in the days of my misspent youth, I'd had a bike nearly identical to that one. Actually, my days were spent in activities much like the kids on those steps. Hell, that _was_ me fifteen years ago. But things had changed since then. Now there was a lot more at stake.

"Gangers?" Sugar asked from the passenger seat.

"Have to be, with that get-up."

She snorted derisively, "Buena Vista my ass."

"Well, it's Redmond," I retorted. "What do you expect? Anyway, just be glad it's Touristville. Otherwise we'd be peeling the squatters off the sides of the van."

She grunted a grudging acknowledgement.

"Alright, guess it's time to get this show on the road."

"You got the pocket comp with you?"

I patted my jacket pocket, "Yup."

"And your cell?"

"That too. Oh, that reminds me."

I reached under driver's side seat, grabbing the weapon that I had squirreled away there a while back. Sugar frowned as I pulled out the Uzi III submachine and handed it to her.

"Damn, where did you get this?"

"I keep it for emergencies. Now, you sit tight, alright? Don't use that thing unless you have to."

She nodded and slipped the weapon down on the floorboard between her legs. "Don't worry about me. You just be careful."

I gave her a wink and leaned over for a quick kiss, then popped the door open and stepped out onto the street.

Outside, the morning air was heavy with the scent of pollution and rain. Thick gray clouds stretched out over the city, but the looming rain hadn't begun to fall yet. I shoved my hands in my pockets, feeling the familiar bulge of the warhawk against my side as I headed toward the apartments.

The gangers quieted as I approached, stiffening visibly. I stepped up onto the stoop, threading through their little throng up to the door. The one with the bull-ring through his nose started to move, but a glance from one of the others quieted him. I tried not to notice. I could feel their eyes on my back, watching me as I opened the door and slipped into the apartment lobby.

Inside only a pair of bare light bulbs lit the dingy foyer—probably a good thing, too, because if I knew what kind of grime layered the linoleum flooring beneath my feet, I might have had second thoughts about entering. A row of mail boxes, half of which yawned open unattended, sat against left wall while an elevator with a large "out of order" sign stood to the right. Further back lay a doorway with the word "STA RS" above it. I headed over to it and went through.

The stairwell beyond was even darker than the lobby, but I managed to make my way to the landing without stepping in anything nasty. Except for the occasional mound of trash, the second floor was empty as I opened the stairwell door and stepped out. I found apartment 213 shortly there after. Like all the other apartments, the door was composed of shoddy synthwood and an even flimsier maglock, so when my booted heel slammed into its wooden face, the door popped open nicely.

I slipped into the room and closed the door behind me, but the lock wouldn't catch. Mantis definitely wasn't going to mind, so I left the door slightly ajar and moved further into the tenement.

The place looked lived in, but at the same time it didn't. It had all the normal amenities and furnishings, but the place was spotless—a direct contrast to the grime coating the rest of the building. It might have surprised me, but lots of people in the shadows were like that—obsessive to the point of compulsion. They wanted to plan for every nuance and control every aspect of their homes because in the chaotic world around them, that was really the only thing they _could_ control. It didn't worry me too much, but it still made me wonder. Whatever the reason for it, I pushed my misgivings away and moved further into the apartment, poking through the kitchen and den then finally entering the bedroom.

The room was furnished with a bed, night stand, and dresser—all of the normal things you would find in a bedroom. What's more, a desk sat before the room's lone window with a desktop computer perched atop it. Finally I'd hit pay data. I moved over to the desk and booted up the computer. As soon as it was up, I jacked the pocket computer Sugar had given me into the desk top and hit the button to start the download function.

Just then my cell phone rang. I jumped involuntarily at the electronic chime, but calmed myself and snatched it off my belt, holding it to my ear. "Yeah?"

"Peaches." It was Sugar. "I think we've got trouble."

"What's that?"

"A few minutes after you went inside, those punks in front got up and followed you inside."

I looked down to see that the comp was done with its download. "How d'you know they're after me?" I asked as I unhooked the computer and stuffed it back into my jacket. I headed back into living room.

"I don't know. It's just the way they acted. Something doesn't feel right. Peaches, you need to get out of there."

She was right, and I was starting to feel it too—something definitely seemed wrong. I was about to tell her as much when the floorboards creaked outside. All other sound stopped, and the only thing I could hear was the beating of my own heart. I dialed up my hearing amplification, listening intently for any tell-tale sign. And then I heard it—the soft _snick_ of a weapon being cocked.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I slipped the phone into my pocket and drew the Warhawk, padding over the door as quickly and as quietly as I could. Once there I pressed my back into the corner between the door and the wall and held my breath.

I heard foot steps on the other side, and then the door began to yawn inward. I waited for a tense moment as the door creaked open. Just as the person on the other side stepped up into the doorway, I planted my foot into the door, slamming its wooden face back into the body behind it. There was a scream and a curse, and I sprang into motion before the poor bastard could make any sense of it. I reached around the door and grabbed the bull-ring wearing punk by the collar of his jacket, bringing the butt of my pistol down on his nose. He howled, dropping the knife in his hand as I yanked him into the doorway. His partner outside tried to bring his pistol into line, but I was faster. I jammed the business end of the warhawk into the bull-nose's head.

"Drop the gun or I'll blow his brains all over the wall," I sneered.

The kid hesitated.

"Do what he says!" bull-nose sputtered through the blood dripping down his chin.

The other ganger wisely dropped the weapon.

"Good, now kick it over to me."

He did as he was told, and I let go of Bull-nose, shoving him back out into the hallway. I kept the warhawk trained on the gangers as I stooped to pick up the pistol and knife. I tossed them into the apartment and turned my attention back to the gutter trash in the hallway.

"Where are the others?"

They exchanged looks. It was obvious they were both scared shitless, but they tried not to show it.

"Fuck off, tusker," Bull-nose growled.

I admired his bravado, so I gave him a swift kick in the groin as a reward. He groaned and keeled over onto the floor. I let him lay there for a few seconds to let the pain soak in, then hooked a finger in his nose ring and pulled him up. He squealed like a pig more than a bull but obediently rose to his feet. The other one just sat there staring.

"Now, don't make me ask you again."

"Down in the lobby," he wheezed

"That wasn't so hard now was it?"

He sputtered something unintelligible.

I gave him a little love tap on the back of the head in response and looked to the other one. "Why were you guarding this room? And don't lie to me."

"I don't know."

"I said not to lie to me," I said, taking a step toward him.

He raised his hands plaintively, "I swear, it's the truth. Viridian has some hot shot contact. I don't know who he is. He told us he'd throw some money at us if we looked after the place. That's all."

"Who's Viridian?"

"Leader of the Green Razors."

I gave his mohawk a once-over. "And that would be you?"

He nodded wordlessly.

I snorted and dug my phone out of my pocket, dialing Sugar's number.

She answered. "What the hell happened?"

"Had to take care of some stuff. Get behind the wheel and get the car started. I may be coming out in a hurry."

"Peaches, what's going on?"

"I'll tell you later, just do what I say." I didn't wait for her response and cut the connection.

I looked to the other ganger. "Alright, get moving. Head for the stairs. You too, slick." I shoved Bull-nose after his friend.

The three of us hit the stairs, the two of them with their hands in the air and me with a gun in Bull-nose's back. The staircase emptied out in the lobby where the other two gangers stood by the door. When they saw us emerge, they immediately went for their weapons, but one look from Bull-nose gave them pause.

I allowed myself a grim smile. "If you two will kindly move away from the door, I'd like to be on my way."

They slowly stepped away from the door, and I pushed Bull-nose and his friend up against the wall. Cautiously I started to back away from them to the door. They tensed as I neared the door, laying my hand on the knob.

Suddenly my body exploded into motion, twisting the handle and barreling out of the building like a bat out of hell. The door banged open as I leapt off the stoop and hit the ground running. The apartment door burst open just as I reached the van, and the gangers poured out, Bull-nose in the lead. I practically dove into the passenger seat as they opened fire, bullets ricocheted off the van's reinforced sides.

"Go go go!" I shouted

Sugar didn't need to be told twice. She hit the accelerator, and the van lurched into motion with the accompanying screech of tires. I twisted in my seat, looking out the back window to see the bull-nose and his buddy scrambling to mount their bikes.

"What'd you do to piss them off so bad?" Sugar shouted over the roar of the engine.

"That had it coming," I grunted, twisting in my seat to roll the window down. "You might want to step on it, 'cos things are gonna get real hairy in a minute here."

Sugar swore again and pushed the accelerator to the max, but already the cycles had started up and were hard at work trying to catch up.

I leaned out the window, centering my aim on bull-nose's friend as he rapidly gained on us. Then I let him have it. I pumped the trigger three times, the warhawk roaring with each successive report, but at that range I didn't hit a damn thing as the van swerved and veered down streets and around obstacles.

"Alright, screw this," I said, pulling my head back in. I bent down to the floor and picked up the Uzi from where Sugar had left it.

"Oh drek," she swore, "they're right on top of us."

I didn't respond as I leaned out the window, twisting to get my head and shoulders through. The lead one spied the weapon in my hand first and veered away, decelerating sharply before turning off on side street. That left the poor Bull-nose briefly wondering what the hell was going before I opened up. The automatic fire tore into the bike and the pavement around it, shredding the front tire like Swiss cheese. Bull-nose threw his arms up over his face as motorcycle skidded and bucked, somersaulting him over the handlebar. He executed an expert flip and hit the ground face-first. His body was still rolling even as I leaned back into the van.

"Jesus Christ," Sugar swore.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Drek, you almost got yourself killed back there."

I fingered the computer in my jacket pocket. "Yeah, well let's just hope it was worth it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I looked at Sugar's anxiously. "So what'd you find?"

She sat at the kitchen table, looking intently at the computer screen set up before her. "Looks like a bunch of grocery lists and phone numbers. Gimme a sec, will ya?"

She spent the next few moments in silence scrolling through the data entries, and then her jaw dropped. "Oh my God."

"What is it?"

"See for yourself." She swung the monitor around to face me.

It was a memo formatted with Ayanami Incorporated letterhead. That fact alone was enough to send chills up my spine, but as I read on, a cold lump began to form in the pit of my stomach. It read:

To: Corporate Management

_Concerning: Disposition of Corporate Asset 732-02_

_Corporate Asset 732-02 is an apartment/condominium owned by Ayanami Incorporated as a publicly undisclosed asset. Located at 1258 Carlton street, the apartment is inhabited by an inactive shadow asset code named "Peaches." At this time, it is advantageous for the inactive asset to remain on corporate property, but the company's disposition may change in the future. Whatever the reason, approach the handling of both corporate and shadow assets with extreme caution. _

It was dated February 14, 2056—three full years ago.

"I can't believe it," I muttered aloud.

"Well believe it," Sugar said somberly. "That file was transmitted via matrix drop box to Mantis's account from a corporate enclave. I haven't been able to verify everything given all the scrubbing the document went through, but it definitely came from Ayanami."

I knew whatever we found was going to be big, but I didn't think it was going to be this big. The Ayanami memo put things in a whole new light—a light I shied away from like a cockroach skittering under the refrigerator. I didn't want to think about the ramifications of it all, but Sugar's next comment made me.

"You think Rei had anything to do with it?"

I looked up at her. "Damn, I hope not. Goddamn it, I hope not."

"But she said—"

"I know what she said, ok? I was there too, remember?"

She scowled, "Hey, don't yell at me. I'm knee deep in this drek too you know."

I sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. It's just . . . she said she deleted it. She promised no one else would know."

"Yeah, well looks like she lied, doesn't it?" She stabbed her finger at the computer screen. "That right there is proof enough of it."

"I just didn't think she was like that. I thought she was different."

"She's a corporate executive and a Ms. Johnson to boot. She uses people like us for a living. What _did_ you think she was like?"

I didn't know how to respond. I couldn't, because I still didn't know what to think. Rei Ayanami had been a good Johnson—and even more than that, a good friend. After working for her in the shadows for four years, we had developed a kind of bond—nothing that could be construed as love, but something less than that and more all at the same time. We understood each other. We trusted each other. So when she hooked me up with the apartment, I her trusted her that it would remain between the two of us. No one was supposed to know about it besides her, Sugar, and me. She told me she would delete all record of it from the company mainframe. She gave me her word. But now it was obvious that her word didn't mean drek.

"So what are we going to do?" Sugar asked quietly.

I looked at her evenly. "You already know that."

"No. Peaches, not this time. When it was against a bunch gutter trash out in Redmond, that may have been a viable option, but this is serious. This is a fragging corporation for God's sake." When I didn't respond immediately, she pressed on. "You know me. I want these fraggers more than anything, but it's not a battle we can win. Peaches, we can still walk away from this. I mean, we still have money. We have contacts. We could disappear and start a new life away from all this drek."

I shook my head. "No. It won't work that way. We may get away for a while—a couple years even—but what happens when they find us again? Can we keep running like this all our lives? If you want to beat feet with your tail between your legs, the go ahead. I won't stop you. But you know that's something I can't do. I have to face this thing head on."

"You know I won't do that."

I smiled faintly. "I know. And thank you."

She sighed, "So what do we do now?"

I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. "Now we look up an old friend. We're going to need help on this one."

Sugar frowned. "You mean _her_."

She saw the answer in my eyes before I could utter a word.

"You know how I feel about her."

"Yeah, I know. But we need her. She's the best spell-slinger I know."

She bit her lip as if mulling over a question in her head. "Fine," she said finally.

"You sure?"

She nodded.

I picked up the phone and dialed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

There was a knock at the door. I started in my sleep, stomach doing somersaults as I momentarily panicked. I latched on to the edge of the couch, sitting bolt upright in the flickering blue light of the trideo.

I sighed and relaxed as I realized where I was. I must have dozed off watching the trid—the first sleep I'd had in two days. I looked around for Sugar, but I couldn't find hide or hair of her. She must have been asleep in the back bedroom. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs from my brain and looked to the clock on the table. The crimson numbers read 11:13. I'd been asleep for a good four hours.

The knock sounded again. Drek. I'd totally forgotten about the meet. I got up and grabbed the Warhawk off the table, padding over to the door to peer into the peep hole.

Through the distorted glass I could see two figures in the hallway. One was a young man, short with Asian features. The other was a tall elf with a mane of platinum blonde hair that fell down onto her shoulders. The first one I didn't recognize, but the second I had known for a long time.

I opened the door, smiling for the first time in what felt like ages. "Diana. Thanks for coming so quickly."

She lashed me a smile—that dagger-like smile I had seen on the other side of the pillow so many times before—alluring, ominous, and enigmatic all at once. I never quite knew what was going on in that head of hers. Once upon a time we had shared a bed, but even so, that cryptic smile still kept me guessing. As she leaned forward for a hug, her touch brought back a rush of ancient memories. I was suddenly glad Sugar was still asleep.

"Of course," she said melodically, "from what you said on the telecom, it sounded urgent."

I sighed, pushing away those dusty memories. "Yeah, it is. I didn't know you were bringing company, though."

She pulled out from the hug, looking back toward the young Asian. "Oh, this is Blitz. We've been working together for the past couple years. I thought he might be able to help."

I gave the kid a once over. Like I saw through the peep hole, he appeared to be Chinese. He had a small wiry build and kept his hair in a crew cut. His eyes were pure chrome, as was the data jack imbedded just behind his left ear. He wore his silk shirt open at the collar where the tattoo of a Chinese dragon could be seen snaking its way from his chest up onto his neck. Seeing him stand next to Diana, I felt a sudden twinge of jealousy, but I pushed it down and buried the emotion with the rest of my long forgotten past.

He flashed me a grin. "Like Di said, the name's Blitz. Nice to meet you, P. I've heard a lot about you."

I scowled and looked back at Diana. "This is who you've been working with since I quit? He's a damn puppy."

Diana shrugged, moving around me toward the kitchen. "He may not look like much, but he's wiz behind the wheel."

Blitz followed her into the kitchen. "Yeah, and looking at your face, it seems you could use the help." He indicated the stitches on my cheek.

"Yeah, well I had a little run-in a couple nights ago. Some slitch mistook me for a scratching post."

Diana had already taken a seat at the kitchen table and was busy patting a cigarette from the pack in her hand. She paused long enough to look up at me. "You want one?"

I slid into the seat across from her and lay the warhawk down on the table. "Nah, I quit a couple of years ago."

She smirked as she brought the cancer stick to her lips and lit it. "Really now? I guess old dogs can learn new tricks after all." She took a long drag, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling like a languid dragon. Finally she fixed her cat-like gaze on me once more. "So tell me what this is about."

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms over my chest. "Some razorguys busted up into my place a couple nights ago. Me an' Sugar managed to take care of 'em, but they put up a hell of a fight. Afterward I got in touch with Jesus, and he was able to find out where one of them lived."

She nodded and grabbed a dirty glass off the counter to use as an ash tray. "And I assume Jesus set you up with this place?"

"Yeah. After we got settled here, we went over to the dead guy's place to have a look-see, and this is what we found." I fished an optical chip from my pocket and tossed it onto the table.

Diana took her personal secretary device out of her coat pocket and inserted the chip. A few moments later she gave a disgusted sigh. "Damn. I knew we shouldn't have trusted the bitch."

"Hold on now," I cautioned, "this doesn't necessarily mean she was behind it."

"Oh come on. It makes perfect sense with everything that's going on."

"Who are we talking about?" Blitz interjected.

Diana rolled her eyes. "Some skank Ms. Johnson we used to work for. You know what I say: don't trust them any farther than you can throw them." She shook the personal secretary. "This right here just proves it."

"Whoa, hold on a sec." I looked to Diana. "What do you mean, 'it makes perfect sense?'"

She frowned. "Haven't you heard? It's been plastered all over the news for the last week."

"What are you talking about?"

She sighed. "Come on. I'll show you." She stood and moved around to the den, snatching up the remote to flip through the channels on the trid.

As I watched her click through various twenty-four hour news programs, the bedroom door eased open and Sugar stepped through. She narrowed her eyes as she took in the scene, studying the new arrivals distrustfully—especially Diana. She furrowed her brow and bit her lip against one of her tusks but kept quiet.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Diana cut me off before I had the chance.

"Here it is. Look."

She dialed up the volume as the picture settled over the blonde anchorwoman on screen.

Her canned voice filtered over the speakers. "—Securities and Exchange Commission in conjunction with the Corporate Council last week announced the opening of an investigation of the Seattle-based corporation Ayanami Incorporated. As of yet no charges have been filed, but the company is suspected of industrial espionage and corrupt business practice, among other allegations. The corporation's CEO and owner, Rei Ayanami, is wanted for questioning as a 'person of interest' in the case, but since the announcement of the investigation, authorities have been unable to contact her. In other news—"

Diana hit the mute button and cut off the anchor mid-sentence. "Don't you see, Peaches? It makes perfect sense. That 'industrial espionage' drek was probably something we worked on. That's why she tried to geek you. She's trying to cover her tracks, get rid of witnesses."

"I can't believe it," I muttered softly, closing my eyes. "She wouldn't do that."

"Well believe it, Peaches. She's like all the others—just looking out for number one."

I felt Sugar's hand on my shoulder. "Diana's right. We've been set up, and you know it."

"Frag," I breathed quietly. "You're right, ok? Goddamn it, you're right." I clenched my fists, moving back into the kitchen as my mind reeled, desperately trying to figure out what to do next.

The others filtered into the kitchen behind me as I angrily pumped my cybernetic fist into the side of the refrigerator. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't believe it. But there it was in front of me in black and white. It was the only thing that made sense. I _had_ to believe it.

All eyes were on me as I turned back around. I looked at each one in turn, reading the empathy evident their eyes. Finally I sighed. "I'm going to need help on this one."

Diana gave me a tight lipped smile. "What do you need?"

"I need man power. Me and Sugar can't do this alone. We need to get some of the old group together. What's Santos doing these days?"

"He got sent up state for ten years."

"Junket and Shadow?"

She shook her head. "Dead. A Salish patrol nailed them on a border run."

"And Shaun?"

"The same. He caught a bullet in the forehead on a run a few months after you left."

"Don't tell me Holy Ghost bought it too."

She shook her head. "Nah. He got some cushy corporate gig—I don't know who with, though. He's been incommunicado for a while."

"Drek."

"Yeah, I know. You got out at a good time. Up until today, I was the only one of the old crew still operating."

Sugar gave her a look I couldn't quite read.

"Diana, you know I can't pay you, but—"

She forestalled any other comment with a wave of her hand. "Your money's no good to me. Anyway, this thing affects me too. Whatever job this investigation is about, odds are I was a part of it too. She'll probably be coming for me next."

"Can you think of anyone else that would help?"

She shrugged and nodded her head to Blitz.

I looked over to Blitz to see what he thought, and my heart leaped up into my throat. He held the Ruger Superwarhawk aloft, watching the way its surface gleamed in the kitchen's florescent light. He paused, looking around as he suddenly realized all eyes were on him.

"Oh, heh, sorry." He grinned sheepishly and laid the weapon back down on the table. "Um, yeah. Sounds like fun. Count me in."

"Good," Diana said with an air of satisfaction. "Now, how are we going to track this little slitch down?"

"Well, first we're going to see if all of this corporate bullshit is on the level."

"And how are we going to do that?"

I gave them a grim smile. "By going straight to the horse's mouth."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

I stepped into the public telecom booth and closed the door behind me, muting out the sounds of the busy street outside. It had taken a while to find a telecom in this district of Renton that actually worked, but it was necessary to mask our location. The last thing we wanted was to bring Rei's corporate goons right down on top of us by being sloppy. I glanced back at Diana where she leaned against the wall outside, trying to look nonchalant. She gave me a knowing nod, and I inserted my cred stick into the telecom's reader.

The telecom displayed the appropriate deduction from my account, and I entered the LTG number I wanted to call. Soon enough, the red "dialing" light began to wink at me as the telecom sought a connection. Finally the black screen was replaced with an Ayanami logo emblazoned over a cool blue background. Just a few seconds later, a youthful blonde face appeared on screen.

The woman flashed a plastic smile. "Good morning, you have reached Ayanami Corporate headquarters. How may I help you?"

"Yeah, let me talk to Rei."

"Ms. Ayanami? Of course sir, do you have an appointment?"

I frowned. "No. I just want to talk to her."

"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Ayanami accepts phone calls on an appointment-only basis. If you would like to make an appointment, I can see if she has any free time to—"

"Just tell her it's Peaches."

She frowned. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Peaches. Like the fruit. She'll know who it is."

"I apologize sir, but she is unavailable at this time. If you—"

"Don't give me that corporate runaround bulldrek," I growled. "I know you can contact her if you want to, so dial her up and get her on the horn. It's important."

She obviously didn't like my tone, because her frown deepened into a scowl as she continued. "I'm afraid that's not possible sir. As I was going to say before, if you wish to make an appointment, I will be more than happy to—"

I had opened my mouth to cut her off again, when the screen suddenly went blank. For a moment I thought the little slitch had hung up on me, but scant seconds later a new face asserted itself over the screen.

The anglo man had a head of dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was immaculately groomed, and the deep blue pinstriped suit he wore attested to the depth of his pockets. He smiled an oily shark's smile, the kind that executives saved for dealing with people they thought were below them.

"Mr. Peaches. I apologize for our receptionist's lack of decorum. She's not as familiar with your respective side of our business as I am."

"Yeah, well I'm not really that familiar with you, either," I said distrustfully.

He smiled again. "Ah, forgive me. My name is Geoffrey Michelson. I am one of Ms. Ayanami's associates."

"Can you get me in touch with her?"

"We might be able to arrange that, though the logistics of it all could be a bit problematic. Perhaps we could discuss it in person?"

I barked a laugh. "Yeah, right."

"It would involve an employment opportunity as well. I assure you, it would be well worth your while."

"I'm not interested in a job."

"You will be interested in this one. It pertains to the disposition of Ms. Ayanami." He gave me that shark's smile again.

I knew he was baiting me, but I decided to bite anyway. "What about her?"

"For that, we will have to meet face to face. How does three o'clock at my office sound?"

"Scrag that," I grunted.

"Alright then, a neutral site. Do you have any preferences?"

"The Red Tomato. Downtown Park, eight o'clock tonight."

Michelson nodded. "Very well then, eight it is. See you then, Mr. Peaches."

The LTG connection went dead before I could say anything else.

I stepped back out onto the street. Diana moved over toward me, shoving her hands in her pockets. "So what happened?"

"We've got ourselves a meet. Looks like there could be some money in this thing after all."

The Red Tomato was an open-air café situated in the middle of Seattle's downtown park. This time of year, only the evergreen trees still held their needles, and the café's stone terrace was littered with fallen leaves. Bare branches hovered above the various tables and benches, looming over the sparse patrons like skeletal hands. For the first time in over a week, the skies were clear. But the myriad of stars remained hidden behind the veil of light emanating from the city, drowning out all but the brightest pinpricks in its luminous haze.

The small café sat a short distance from the road, connected by a gravel path. This fall evening, it played host to only a handful of diners, all of them bundled tightly against the chill night—me included. I wore a black skully, wrapped tightly in my armored jacket with a steaming cup of soycaf cradled in my hands. Sugar sat beside me with her arms folded over her chest, growing more and more annoyed.

"Tell me again why you set the meet at an open-air café in the middle of November," she muttered sarcastically.

"I don't recall telling you in the first place," I said, taking a sip of the caf.

"Maybe not, but I'm starting to wonder the same thing," came Diana's voice over the radio transceiver nestled in my ear. "At least Blitz gets to sit in the van where it's warm."

I looked over to where Diana sat alone at a table, glancing at her watch every two minutes and trying her best to look like someone who had just been stood up on a date. "Yeah, well if it bothers you all this much, just think how much it'll mess with Michelson's cushy ass."

"Keeping him off-balance, huh?" Blitz's youthful voice said over the comm. "I like it."

"Yeah, well you wouldn't like it if you were sitting out here with the rest of us," Sugar shot back.

"I hate to end this rousing conversation," Diana interjected, "but my watcher spirit says there is a pair of humans on their way to the café. It's most likely Michelson."

"Alright then. Blitz, do you have that spy drone into position?"

"I'm on it, chief."

"Good. Be on your toes, folks. This guy could be on the level, but I doubt it. If he springs something, be ready to slot and run."

The others voiced their acknowledgement and fell silent.

A few moments later, the crunch of feet upon gravel heralded the new arrivals. I turned to see a pair of men dressed in expensive-looking long coats walking along the trail toward the café. The one on the left I immediately recognized as Michelson. The other was a bit smaller than his counterpart with a shell of blonde hair plastered on the crown of his head. He looked every bit the corporate assistant, but there was a steely look in his eyes that gave me the sneaking suspicion he was something more.

Diana's voice came over radio. "Heads up. The blonde one is awakened."

"Great, a magician," I muttered under my breath.

As Michelson and his crony approached, the exec flashed me a winning smile. "Mr. Peaches. Good of you to meet us on such short notice. I hope you don't mind. I brought a friend along."

I shrugged. "Fine by me. I brought some company as well."

He smirked. "Yes, well I understand you and your friends like to run in packs, so I figured as much." He nodded to Sugar, "Pleased to meet you by the way." He took a seat on the bench, but his buddy remained standing.

"Same here," she muttered, but the scowl on her face made it clear she was anything but.

"Alright," I interjected before either one could say anything else, "let's skip the small talk and get to business. What's the deal with Rei?"

"Very well. I assume you have heard the recent news item concerning Ayanami Incorporated?"

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I didn't want to tip my hand to how little we actually knew.

"Well, most of what has been filtering out over the news broadcasts is true. What's not public knowledge, however, is that Ms. Ayanami has discovered the better part of valor and flown the coop."

I frowned. "But I thought they hadn't filed charges yet."

"They haven't, but Ms. Ayanami evidently thinks that charges are pending. And given the recent escalation in the investigation, I would have to concur."

"So, just like that she left?"

"Three days ago she was en route to a business meeting in another sector of Seattle when she and her body guards simply vanished. They failed to show up at the conference, and we haven't heard from her since."

"So how do you know she wasn't kidnapped or attacked?"

"No wreckage, no police report, and above all, no ransom notice. Believe me, Mr. Peaches. No outside forces were involved in Ms. Ayanami's disappearance. This is all her own handiwork."

"So, formal charges are going to be filed against her?"

"That remains to be seen. But whatever the outcome, the veracity of her intuition does not change our predicament." He sighed. "Mr. Peaches, I'm afraid this whole incident looks rather bad for the company. If Ms. Ayanami truly was involved in any wrong-doing, we want to make sure it is she that bears the responsibility of those actions, and that the weight of her misdeeds does not fall on the company."

"This is fascinating and all, but where are you going with this?"

"We need to put our best face forward if we are to survive as a corporation. If at all possible, we would like to find Ms. Ayanami and turn her over to the authorities in order to cooperate with their investigation. As of yet, Lonestar has been reluctant to issue a warrant for her arrest, but we feel it is only a matter of time before the evidence accumulates. When it does, we want to be able to hand her over as a gesture of good faith."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"We've heard about your little run-in with some of Ms. Ayanami's hired help. No doubt she was trying to get rid of some of the evidence of her transgressions before investigators could track you down." He smiled. "And if I understand you correctly, you're simply itching to get back at her. Am I right?"

I grunted noncommitally.

"If that's a yes, then you're in luck. I'm here to offer you that chance. You want to get your hands on her to settle the score, and I want her to save my company, but in the end, we both want the same thing—to make her pay for what she's done. To that end, I am prepared to offer you one hundred thousand nuyen plus expenses to track down her down, capture her, and return her to Ayanami."

I tried not to show my surprise. I don't think I succeeded very well, because Michelson grinned. "So you'll do it then?"

A hundred grand was a damn lot of dead presidents—too much to pass up. That's what made me nervous. In the shadows more than anywhere else, if something seemed too good to be true, it usually was. But the simple fact was we didn't have the cred or the resources to track her down ourselves. Like it or not, Michelson was our best chance to track down Rei and end this once and for all.

"Alright," I finally said. "But if I'm going to do this, I'll need all the information you have on Rei—family background, medical history, the works. I'll also need access to her house."

"If you're thinking of trying to find a DNA sample to track her down, it won't be that easy. My people already combed her appartment from top to bottom and found nothing of use. It had been picked clean before she even left." He smiled appologetically. "I'm sorry, but it is going to be a little more difficult than that. Though, the information I can get you. Will there be anything else?"

"That'll do for now. I'll forward the equipment needs later."

"Very good, then." He took a business card from his coat pocket and handed it to me. "This is the contact information for my private telecom line. You can reach me here if you have questions or any other needs. And please, once you have Ms. Ayanami in your possession, waste no time in turning her over."

I took the card and slipped it into my back pocket. "I'll call you later for the background file."

"Good." Michelson stood. "Well Mr. Peaches, it has been fun, but I should be going now. I still have duties to attend to."

"We'll be in touch."

That predatory smile reappeared on his face. "You can count on it." He stood and headed back for the road, his bodyguard just a step behind.

I took a sip of the caf, watching them as they eventually disappeared from view. "Did you get all that, Blitz?" I asked over the comm.

"Yeah Boss. The drone recorded it all."

"Good work. Diana?"

"He wasn't being overtly deceitful, but his aura still wasn't totally genuine. Then again, I would probably be more suspicious if it _was_ genuine. Then I'd think his wagemage was masking him somehow. As it stands, I don't think so. He seems to be on the up and up."

"That doesn't make me feel much better," Sugar muttered.

"Me neither," I said, "but we still have a job to do. Let's saddle up and head home. I have a feeling we're going to be burning the midnight oil on this one."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The carton of soy-noodles hit the kitchen table with a wet _thunk_. Blitz grinned as he shucked his jacket and tossed it into the living room. "I got the 'Troll Party Platter.' I figured that would be able to take care of us all."

I made a face at the gallon-sized container already oozing grease onto the table. "You might want to put some napkins under it before that drek eats through the table."

"Yeah, sure," he said absent mindedly, looking around for paper towels.

"Third cabinet from the left," I said as I stood and moved to get some bowls and glasses out of the cupboard. "Food's here," I called into the living room where both Sugar and Diana were bent over a computer screen.

"Be there in a sec," came the muffled reply.

I shrugged and took my seat at the table again, digging into the mound of greasy soy-chicken and noodles. Once he properly ensured our meal wouldn't rot through the table, Blitz did the same.

"I have a question for you," he said between mouthfuls.

I didn't look up as I hungrily slurped down the noodles. "Shoot."

"So, that gun you have—what's the inscription mean?"

"'Eh?"

"You know. _With this bullet, I thee wed_."

"What do _you_ think it means?" I asked cryptically.

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."

"Try to figure it out for yourself. If you come up with something entertaining enough by the time all of this is over, I'll tell you what it means."

He opened his mouth to protest but trailed off as Diana and Sugar walked into the room, Sugar with a bundle of papers under her arm.

"Thank the spirits," said Diana, "I'm starving."

"You weren't followed, were you?" Sugar asked as she sorted through the stack of papers in her arms.

"I don't see how," said Blitz. "After the meet we cruised around the city for two hours to make sure we didn't pick up a tail, and my bug scanners came up with zilch. Even Diana said nothing was following us on the astral."

"Yeah Sugar," I interjected. "You're being paranoid."

"I've managed to stay alive this long because of it, and I plan to continue, thank you very much."

Blitz looked to Diana for help, but the mage just shrugged and sat down at her place at the table.

I looked over to where Sugar still stood in the doorway. "You gonna eat, or you gonna stand there all night?"

"If you think you can handle a deck any faster, you're welcome to trade places. But until that time, shut the hell up, alright?" She scowled and shoved a portion of the papers toward me. "Here."

"What's this?"

"This is the information on Rei that Michelson sent us." She moved around the table, handing the others similar packets.

I was a bit put off by her tone, but I decided not to worry about it and instead leaned back in my chair, reading the information aloud. "Parents deceased, one sibling, a younger sister. Started at Washington University in the pre-med program, but changed to business administration two years into it. In five years she graduated with honors, was granted executive position at age twenty-two, and gained control of the company at twenty-four when her father died and left her all of her shares in the corporation. No criminal history—not that I expected any—and zilch in the way of social contacts. The only one listed here is an ex-boyfriend she dated in college."

"The perfect little corporate geek," Diana mumbled through her noodles.

"Check out the back section," Sugar said as she prepared her meal. "I did a little research on all the drek Ayanami is knee deep in."

I flipped to the back and began to read. A minute later, I gave a low whistle.

"Yeah, that's what I said too," Sugar agreed.

"What's that?" Diana asked around a mouthful of noodles.

"It's this whole drekstorm with the corporate council. Mitsuhama Computer Technologies claims that Ayanami stole prototype nanites designed to combat certain genetic diseases that gene therapy hasn't been able to counteract, and they then patented the technology before MCT had a chance to do it themselves. MCT didn't feel that they could prove anything until Ayanami came out with a new line of medical nanotechnology that was a direct ripoff of their tech. Ayanami pushed it into production ahead of schedule, and now Mitsuhama is scrambling to get everything together in order to press criminal charges and sue Ayanami for all they're worth."

Diana paled. "Nanotechnology? That . . . "

"Yeah, I know," I growled.

"Damn I hate it when I'm right."

"So wait," Blitz interjected, "What happened?"

Diana sighed. "It was a run we did a few years before Peaches retired. Rei hired us to infiltrate this medical research station and steal a prototype nanite designed to combat gentic diseases. We swiped the prototype and scragged their data files on the project. It would have taken years for them to catch up to where they were before."

"And they were damn pissed about it too," I interjected.

"Well, that sorts out all whys and whens, but it doesn't help us with the how," said Blitz. "Mainly how we're going to track down this little girl. Does anyone have any ideas?"

"Well," I said, flipping back to the first page of the packet, "I'm pretty sure that the easiest way to find her would be through ritual sorcery, but given what Michelson said, that's probably out of the picture."

Diana nodded. "If the corporation wasn't able to find a DNA sample, I'm pretty sure we won't be able to either. And without something to link her to, it would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack blind folded."

"So what about this sister of hers?" Blitz asked.

Sugar shook her head. "I don't think that is going to work either. Ayanami has her under close watch, and right now I don't think they would risk doing anything to her to draw Rei out. Rei probably knows as much, and isn't going to risk getting nabbed or flatlined just to talk to her sister." She started to say something else, but I cut her off before she had a chance.

"Okay, well what about friends or contacts?

Sugar scowled. "According to this, she hasn't spoken to the ex boyfriend for six years, and he lives in Columbus now. Michelson didn't give us anything else. Now if you'll let me finish—"

Blitz raised his hand. "Um, this may be a dumb question, but how do we even know she's still in the city? For all we know, she could have hopped a flight out three days ago."

Sugar huffed in annoyance and folded her arms over her chest.

Diana shook her head. "No, a direct flight out of Seattle would be too risky for her. I'm sure Michelson has dozens of eyes and ears trained at the airports. If she's even half as smart as she seems, she won't go within ten blocks of an airport."

"So what does that leave us?" I asked.

Diana leaned forward, slurping down the last of her noodles. "She has one of two options: she can either hop a freighter out of the docks, which is a risk in itself since you've got random customs inspections and all that drek, or she can try to find someone to smuggle her out of the country on an overland route."

"You mean in a T-bird."

"Got it in one. That's about the only way she can get out quickly and quietly."

"Now, you said Junket and Shadow were on a border run when they got scragged. Do you still know some of their smuggling contacts? Maybe they've heard something about it."

Diana made a face. "I don't know. I mean, I have some names, but they're old as hell. There's no guarantee they're within reach or even alive. I'll try to find them, but I can't guarantee anything."

"Well, does anyone else know anyone who could help?"

"I've got some buddies who might know," said Blitz. "I'll give them a ring—but don't expect a response very quickly. There's no telling what they're up to right now."

I sighed. "So really we've got a bunch of possibilities, but not a definite solution. We don't have the time to sift through all of this drek. We need a fast solution if we're going to nab her before she splits."

"I've got a way," Sugar offered coldly

"Why didn't you say anything before?" I asked.

"Because you wouldn't let me, you jackass."

I swallowed a retort. I'd known her for long enough to know we weren't going to get anywhere by arguing. "I'm sorry," I said slowly. "You can say it now."

"Good. Now if you had bothered to look at the medical history in the dossier, you'd know it says that Rei was diagnosed with Cistic Fibrosis at age three."

"Yeah, so how does that help us?"

"I don't see the correlation either," said Diana

Sugar gave an exasperated sigh. "It's a genetic disease."

The rest of us traded looks.

"I'm still not following you," said Blitz.

"Christ, do I have to spell it all out for you? Cystic Fibrosis is one of the diseases that gene therapy techniques haven't been able to fully eliminate. The average life expectancy of someone suffering from Cystic Fibrosis is thirty. Rei is twenty-nine right now. That's the reason Ayanami rushed into production of the nanites—because she's hovering around that threshold. If she doesn't get a cure soon, she's going to die."

"That's a real tear-jerker and all," Diana quipped, "but how does that help us?"

"The nanites haven't been out on the market for very long, and retailers haven't wanted to touch the stuff because of the stink with MCT. Ayanami hasn't been able to license sales through any other distributors."

I shook my head. "Now wait. That doesn't make sense. I mean, she's not about to die yet—at least not from the disease. She could get out of town now and then place an order for it when the licensing is all settled."

"That's just the thing," Sugar insisted. "The licensing isn't going to be settled for years. Ayanami will have to put a hold on production of it until the legal battle with MCT is over with, and even then it could be a while before production resumes. If she doesn't get a large enough supply now, the odds are she's going to die within a few years."

"But shouldn't she have been able to get a hold of it before?" Diana asked. "I mean, she owns the fragging company for spirits' sake."

"The nanites aren't an instant cure. They only combat the effects of the disease as long as they're in the person's system. She has to get a big enough supply to last her for a long while."

"Where are you going with all of this?" I asked.

"Well think about it. If no one else will sell the things, there is the only place she can get them. You scan?"

Suddenly it all clicked. A grin began to spread across my face. "Ayanami Inc."

"Bingo."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

I gazed out the van's rain-splashed windshield at the flounder-like building situated before us. Whereas the other buildings in the Downtown district had grown upward, the Ayanami distribution center had grown outward. A squat administration building stood at the forefront of the complex with the rest of warehouse sprawling out behind it like the bulbous body of some malformed beetle. A tall chain link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the complex, making it look more like a prison than a place of business. From our van in the parking lot, Sugar and I watched as a steady trickle of men, women, and material moved through the front gates and into the facility.

To me, facilities like that one were a constant reminder of the nature of the world today. Despite all of our innovations and advances, we were prisoners—slaves to the need to produce and consume—slaves to the corporate machine. Most people who run the shadows think they're above the corporate run-around, that they're not controlled by mass media bulldrek and corporate advertising, but in reality we're no better off than anyone else. The constant cycle of revenues and expenditures plague us all, just in a different form.

I twisted in my seat, looking back toward the jumble of gear that had recently taken up residence in the rear of the van. A playback unit and a pair of trideo monitors made up the bulk of it, casting a gray glow over the dim interior. Diana lay slumped in the corner, her head canted against the wall and eyes rolled up into the back of her head.

She was traversing the astral plane, watching for things our mundane eyes could not. She called it going "extravehicular," but I called it just plain weird. Her body may have been there, but her mind was not. Watching her do it was like watching someone die—like watching her soul flee, leaving only a hollow shell of flesh. It always unnerved me to. Her body would slump like a limp fish, and then her sightless eyes would roll up into the back of her head. Deckers did the same thing, but this was different from watching Sugar jack into the matrix. It was like everything that had made her Diana was suddenly gone, and all that was left was an empty sack of meat.

I shuddered and turned back toward Sugar where she was busily tapping commands into the slim computer module she held on her lap. "Diana's still zonked out," I announced. "You heard anything thing from Blitz?"

"If I had, do you think I would have kept it to myself?" she asked coldly

"I didn't think it would take twenty freakin' minutes to get a couple of soy dogs and some caf," I grunted.

Sugar didn't respond and kept working at the computer.

I sighed and leaned back in my seat, stuffing my hands under the armpits of my jacket. Everything fell silent except for the beating rain on the roof of the van.

"Are you sure you installed that data tap right?" I finally asked.

She fixed me with a baleful stare. "Yes, I'm sure. This drek takes time, you know. You just worry about shooting things, and I'll worry about the technical stuff, okay?"

My face creased into a frown. "Now hold on a goddamn minute. I was just asking a question. Who stuck a pinecone up your ass?"

"I just hate answering stupid questions," she growled.

"No, you've been acting this way since this whole drek started. What the hell's gotten into you?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

"Goddamn it, fine." She closed the cyberdeck on her lap and sighed, casting a glance over her shoulder to where Diana still lay unconscious in the back. "It's them, okay?"

"Blitz and Diana? What's wrong with them?"

"I don't trust them. I never totally trusted that little slitch when we were working with her, and I sure as hell don't trust that little triad-wanabe she has as a partner. They showed up too quickly to be in it for anything but themselves. Diana's got an agenda of her own, I know it."

I scoffed. "Like what, stealing me away from you?"

She shot me an icy stare that let me know I'd hit a nerve.

I ignored the look and continued. "Diana's got just as much riding on this as we do. Rei could just as easily be after her instead of me. Look, Diana has been there for me as long as I've known her. She's a chummer. I trust her."

"That's what has me worried."

"Just what are you getting at?"

"You trust people too easily, Peaches. You think with your heart and not with your head. That's what gets you in trouble. That's what started this whole mess."

I snorted derisively. "You want to blame all of this shit on me?"

"When all of this first went down, it took forever to make you admit the truth. The evidence was right there in front of you, but you didn't want to believe it because you'd put your trust in that little bitch and she stabbed you in the back."

"Yeah, well it's not that way anymore."

"Bulldrek it isn't. You're doing the same thing with Diana and Blitz—and Michelson for that matter. You're sticking your neck out there for these people without even thinking it through. If you're not careful you're going to get it lopped off, and mine alone with it."

"So what would you have me do? Run away? Bury my head in the sand and hope that all of this blows over?" I sighed, softening my tone. "Sugar, I'm not a damn genius, and I never claimed to be wiz at anything like that. But I am smart enough to know running off with my tail between my legs isn't going to solve anything. If we're going to have a shot at living a decent life any time soon, we're going to have to sort this drek out—and we need their help to do it."

"I just don't trust them."

"I ran the shadows with Diana for two years before I even met you. Whenever I needed her, she was always there for me. I trust her about as much as you can trust anyone in this world. And if she says Blitz scans clean, then I trust her about that too."

"What if they're in on it? I mean, what if Rei hired them to watch us and kill us when the time was right?"

"You mean to tell me that they couldn't have done that already? If Diana wanted to, she probably could have turned our brains to mush half a dozen times over. If they were going to kill us, they would have had plenty of chances to do it already."

Sugar was quiet, but the look on her face made it obvious she wasn't pleased.

"Once we get Rei, everything will be fine. Trust me."

Whatever else she was about to say was cut off as the van's side door jerked open, and Blitz piled in. He shook the rain off his coat like a dog shaking water from its fur and slammed the door behind him. "So, did I miss anything?" he asked as he started to poke through the contents of the paper bag he had in hand.

"Not a peep," I said, twisting around to look back at him. "Anything on the bugs you planted?"

Blitz took a soggy hot dog out of the paper bag and stuffed about half the thing it his mouth at once. He glanced at the monitors in the back. "Just a couple of customers," he said around the wad of food. "I can't see what kind of items they're picking up though. That's Sugar's job."

Sugar started to grumble something, but the lap top began to buzz. She flipped up the screen again. "Uh oh, I think we're live."

"You got somebody, Blitz?" I asked.

"Yeah, I got one."

"Turn the monitor so I can see."

Blitz dutifully twisted the unit around so I could see the grainy black and white picture.

The screen showed a man in his early thirties standing at the pick up counter. His dark hair was cut short, and he wore a dark suit along with a pair of mirrored sunglasses. He had a hard look about him like a chipped yabo who knew how to handle himself when things went to drek.

"Can you get any information on this guy?" I asked Sugar.

"The information he gave the clerk says he is one Emanuel Sanchez, MD."

"He doesn't look like any doctor I've ever seen," Blitz muttered.

"You think it's our guy?" I asked.

"Well if he's not, both us _and_ Rei are going to be drek out of luck. He just bought up what was left of the nanite supply."

I looked back at Blitz where he was busily switching the view on the monitors between different cameras. "It looks like he's headed for the front door. He should be coming out any second now."

I looked out the window, easily picking out our man from the rest of the customers. He stood out like an M-1 tank in the middle of rush hour. I gave a low whistle as he approached a black sedan with the fluid grace of a professional dancer—that, or someone who's had his reflexes wired to hell and back. He was no doctor, of that I could be certain. This guy was a pro.

Diana gave an involuntary kick as her eyes fluttered open and her spirit returned to her meat. She took a gasping breath like a diver who had spent too much time under water, taking a few more gulping breaths before she spoke. "I got his astral signature," she said, struggling to sit upright.

"We may not need it," I replied, gesturing to the black sedan as it pulled out of its parking spot.

Blitz grinned. "Driver, follow that car."

I gave him a one-fingered salute and started up the van, following the other car out of the parking lot. The hunt was on.

The GridGuide system, the electronic structure that guided traffic throughout the metroplex, kept us on his tail as he took a meandering route through Downtown, eventually threading his way through Renton and finally into Auburn. The air in Auburn was filled with a perpetual bank of smog, obscuring the sun's rays from the plebeians on the ground. Still, the outskirts of the district were filled with bustling industrial complexes and corporate shopping centers. As we traveled further into the borough, however, the surroundings started to degrade. The thriving businesses were replaced with sleezy bars, broken parking lots, and abandoned industrial facilities. Hulking buildings stood out against the blank gray sky, left to rust and corrode in decades of acid rain like a misused toy that had been cast out of the corporate playground.

After a few minutes of driving through the industrial wasteland, the car ahead began to slow. I pulled the van off to the curb, watching in nervous silence as the black sedan pulled into the abandoned industrial complex across the street. It cruised behind one of the buildings and then disappeared from sight.

The whole facility, a few acres in size, consisted of a trio of large decayed buildings surrounded by a ramshackle chain link fence. One of the buildings was large and rather wide, an old warehouse by the looks of it. The other two were taller and ringed by a series of catwalks along the outside. A large concrete smoke stack protruded from each one, but both were dormant, sparing the polluted sky from further torture.

Diana and Blitz leaned up into the front compartment, taking in all they could of the facility.

"You think she's in there?" Blitz asked.

"She has to be," Diana said. "Why else would that goon of hers come all the way out here?"

"It would be a good place to lay low, for sure," Sugar commented. "If we hadn't seen the car pull in, we would have never known there was anyone there."

I switched my cyber eyes to the thermographic vision setting and scanned the complex as best I could. Both the warehouse and the rightmost factory buildings were empty, devoid of both power and heat signatures. The left building, on the other hand, was a different story. The thick concrete walls blocked out most of the warmth, but the windows were alive with radiant heat. Whether it was put out by lights, an internal heating system, or a cluster of warm bodies, I couldn't tell, but one thing was for sure. Someone was in there.

"I'm getting a pretty big heat signature from the left-most building," I said. "I'd say that's where our girl is holed up."

"How do you know it's not just a bunch of squatters?" Sugar asked.

"Why else would the Ayanami stooge come all the way out here if he was just going to visit some squatters?" Diana said irritably.

"I just want to know for sure before we blast our way into the place only to find some gutter trash huddled around a garbage fire."

Diana started to respond, but a low whistle from Blitz cut her off. He pointed up toward one of the smoke stacks. "That right there should answer your question."

I activated my vision magnification and zoomed in on the area Blitz had indicated. Sure enough, I could see a lone figure perched atop the catwalk encircling the pinnacle of the stack. I couldn't make out many details from where I was, but he was definitely armed.

"That seems to settle things, now doesn't it?" Diana said smugly

"Can you take a peek inside on the astral?" I asked her.

She gazed at the plant a moment, eyes glazing over as if looking past everything else at something the rest of us couldn't see. Finally she shook her head. "No, someone placed an astral ward over the building. If I go in, I'll have to tear it down, and whoever put it up will know."

"So how do you want to do this?" Blitz asked, looking at Diana.

"My guess is they'll have the entrances covered—probably guards on one, and traps on the others. It wouldn't take much. Just a couple of well-placed claymores could turn you into fish bait if you weren't careful. I'm sure there will be some nasty surprises waiting for us inside."

"What if we make our own entrance?" I asked slyly. "A shaped charge on the south wall, and _blam—_we've got ourselves abrand new door. Then we just toss a few gas grenades in, and sweep in to grease anyone still standing."

"The plan's got promise," she admitted. "It just might work."

I looked to Sugar. "If we can get the building's address, could you get the plans for the layout?"

"Seattle Public Works should have a copy of the blueprints. I'll give it a look and see what I come up with."

"We're going to have to move in as quickly as possible. Now that she has the nanites, Rei could skip town at any moment."

"Alright, that settles it. The raid will have to happen tonight. Once I contact Michelson about the equipment, we can get down to business."

Blitz and Diana voiced their agreement, and, though she was still a bit uncertain, even Sugar gave me an assenting nod.

"Let's get it done." I picked up my cell phone and made the call.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I hit the van's horn twice, looking expectantly toward the large warehouse door we had parked in front of.

"You sure this is the right address?" Diana asked.

"Yeah. Well, I mean I guess it is. This is where Michelson said to go to pick up the stuff."

"Maybe no one's home," Blitz ventured.

That certainly seemed like a possibility. The warehouse, and the whole neighborhood for that matter, looked as if it had seen better days. Acid rain had long ago stripped away the building's paint, leaving it a red-streaked brown that seemed to be the uniform color for this district of Seattle. The parking lot around it was cracked and broken, overgrown with brown weeds and smattered with all manner of discarded trash. It looked totally abandoned.

"Wait, look over there." Sugar pointed to the side where a set of rickety wooden steps led up to a small door. The door had just opened and wide, scruffy figure emerged from inside—it was Boris, Jesus' dwarf friend from Bottoms Up. He shuffled down the ramshackle steps and over to the driver's side window. I rolled down the window to oblige him.

"The damn garage door's stuck on the inside—the controls don't work. Gotta open it up from the outside. Hold on a sec."

I nodded wordlessly, saving my many questions for later as I watched him saunter over to a key pad mounted on the wall beside the garage door. He hit the number sequence and stood back as the garage door groaned open.

"58823," Blitz said from where he sat, looking over my shoulder.

I gave him a quizzical glance. "What?"

"58823. That's the code."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I dunno. It might be important if things don't go as planned."

I gave him a blank stare.

"I have a thing with numbers, okay?"

Sugar slapped me on the arm, "Would you shut up and drive?" She gestured to where the garage door now stood open.

I just sighed and turned back around, jockeying the van into the warehouse.

The expansive structure was composed of building materials that looked like they predated the matrix crash of '29. Cinderblocks made up portions of the wall, and galvanized steel trusses, by now heavily corroded with rust and all manner of other contaminants, criss-crossed the cavernous ceiling. For all of its size, the place looked like it could fall down at any moment. It was definitely out of its prime, as evidenced by the many grease stains on the concrete floor and the patches of light streaming in from holes in the roof. It was practically empty except for a trio of large crates that sat at the center of the floor, but more interesting was the man who sat atop them.

Jesus sat with his hands folded over the cane in his lap, his legs dangling over the side of the crate he had perched himself upon. He still wore the same get-up as the last time I'd seen him—a white wife-beater, suspenders, and a pair of slacks. He looked more like a gangster in a bad Noir film than a twenty-first century fixer.

Jesus raked his sightless gaze across us as we approached. "Ah, I see you brought company this time," he said, chuckling at his own joke.

"Hoi, Jesus," Diana said. "Long time no see."

He gave a good natured laugh. "Longer for me, I'm sure. Who else do you have with you?"

"Not to be rude or anything," I interjected before Diana could say anything else, "but what the hell are you doing here, Jesus?"

He shrugged. "If I've been informed correctly, you're in need of some high end gear." He spread his arms to encompass the crates around him. "And I'm here to deliver."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here making good on a delivery we ordered from Michelson," Sugar said distrustfully.

He shrugged again. "Goods have to come from somewhere, and unfortunately for Ayanami, most of the smaller corps don't have the pull to get the kind of ordinance you requested through legitimate means. So here I am. Just think of me as a subcontractor."

"But why you?"

"I've had contracts with Ayanami in the past, so it would seem the logical choice, don't you think? Anyway, how do you think I got all those Ayanami contracts for you and your crew back when you were still running? You think I magically pulled them out of my ass? My name might be Jesus, but I'm not a miracle worker."

I shrugged. It made a certain kind of sense. Anyway, I didn't have time to think about it anymore. The longer we delayed, the closer Rei got to skipping town.

"Good enough." I gestured to the crates. "Is this everything?"

"Yep." He patted the crate he was sitting on. "Even the special little toy you ordered." He hopped off onto the ground. "I'll leave you all alone to look through your new goodies." He guestured to a small door set in the warehouse side wall. "That hallway leads outside. I've got a couple of offices through there. Just come find Boris when you're done. He'll let you out."

He grinned in my direction. "Looks like you ended up taking that Ayanami contract after all. Good luck, _omae_. I hope you come out of it all right." With that he turned and headed for the door, feeling his way along with his walking stick.

When he finally left, I turned back to the others. "Alright, let's check the equipment and get it loaded up." I glanced at my watch. "We've only got three hours until nightfall."

Blitz made a bee-line for the central crate. "God, I hope this is what I think it is." He popped the lid and gave a small whoop. "Oh yeah, this is what I'm talking about!" The rest of us headed to the other crates as Blitz stripped away the remains of the crate to reveal what lay inside.

The Steel Lynx drone was a veritable tank with its three-meter length simply covered in armor plating. The top-mounted turret bore a pair of Ingram Valiant light machine guns with large ammunition bins slung underneath each one. Its entire hide had been painted matte black, giving it a decidedly menacing look.

As Blitz lovingly ran his hands over the Lynx, Diana moved over to another crate and lifted the lid off. "Peaches, you'll enjoy this one." She withdrew a glossy black rifle from within the crate and tossed it toward me.

I deftly snatched the Colt M221A1 out of the air. Without me even thinking about it, my chromed hand wrapped itself around the weapon's grip with the practiced ease born from years of familiarity. My vision blurred slightly as the tech that laced my body interfaced with the weapon's circuitry. With that familiar sensation, long-forgotten memories came bubbling to the surface of my conscience—memories of a man who no longer existed.

"Did you ask Michelson for that specifically?" Diana asked.

I turned the weapon over in my hands, gently running my fingertips over the under-barrel grenade launcher and top-mounted scope. "No," I muttered softly.

"It's just like your old piece. Jesus sure knows how to take care of a chummer, 'eh?"

I nodded wordlessly. I didn't feel much like talking anymore.

Diana hefted a box of ammo from the crate and began to haul it back to the van. "Blitz, when you're done jacking off over that drone, we could use a hand with this stuff."

"Oh yeah. Sorry." He sauntered over to the other crate and began to unload with Sugar and Diana. He pulled out the first thing that came to hand and gave a low whistle, holding up the IWS Multi-launcher for everyone to see. "Damn, P. Did you get this for the run, or are you planning a fragging war on the side?"

I shrugged uninterestedly. "As long as Michelson is footing the bill, I figured we should be as prepared as possible."

Blitz conceded the point with a shrug and hefted the weapon over his shoulder, heading for the van.

"Look," I said after a moment, "I'm not feeling too hot. Do you think you guys could take care of loading this stuff without me?"

Sugar frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just need some air."

"Go ahead," Diana offered. "We can take it from here."

I forced a weak smile of thanks and headed for the door.

I sat on the rickety steps outside the warehouse, watching as the sun dipped below Seattle's shining skyline of glass and steel. A haze of smog spread outward from the descending orb like the last feeble breath of a dying day. Soon night would be upon us, and the city's predators would claw their way out of their day-time hideaways to skulk along the shadowed streets once more. Once the sun went down, it would be time for us to go to work. I was stalking the shadows once more. But was I ready?

It hadn't really dawned on me until the Colt touched my hands. Then the old sensations came flooding back, reminding me of the feel of cold steel beneath my palms, lead in my gut, and bullets hammering into my chest. The Warhawk had been with me through all of the years since I'd left home, but when things really went to drek, the Colt was there to take its place. My old assault rifle had taken more lives than I cared to count—deaths that I had written off as a necessary means to an end. In that time of my life, there wasn't much else I could do. Since my retirement I had locked away that part of my life in a hole deep in the bottom of my soul. But when I laid hands upon that rifle, it all came rushing back like a loyal cur that had spent too much time apart from its master. Two people had already died since this drek started. Was I willing to increase the body count to see this thing through to the end?

The door opened behind me, disturbing me from my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder to see Diana emerge from the doorway.

"The others are finishing up," she announced.

I nodded and turned back toward the fading sun.

I expected her to turn around and head back inside, but the next thing I knew she had plopped down on the steps right next to me and was soon busy lighting up a cigarette.

"You got another one of those?" I asked.

Her brow scrunched up in confusion. "I thought you quit."

"Yeah, well lately it seems like I'm doing a lot of stuff I thought I'd never do again."

She shrugged and handed me a cig. I held it to my lips as she lit it for me and gave it a few experimental puffs. A dry warmth began to spread throughout my mouth and chest as I inhaled, tingling with nicotine delight. I'd forgotten how good one of those things could be after a long day.

The conversation lapsed into silence as we watched the sun recede beyond the horizon. For a few moments we just sat there, listening to the sounds of the city and blowing smoke trails into the air.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said, breaking the trance-like quietude.

Diana took a drag off of her cigarette. "Shoot."

"Are you and Blitz together?"

She laughed. "What, you mean _together_ together? Spirits, no. I could almost be his mother."

I shrugged and hit the cig again, tapping ash over the railing.

"What brought that up?"

I forced a smile. "Sugar is worried about you being around again. She thinks you're going to steal me away from her. I thought maybe she'd lighten up if she knew you were already taken." I tried hard to believe my own line, but it was only a half-truth.

Diana flashed a knowing smile, as if she saw through the ruse but didn't want to say as much. "She always was the jealous type."

"She thinks I'm going about this all wrong."

"That you think with your heart and not with your head?" She grinned like a cheshire cat.

My stomach lurched with the realization. "Were you awake that whole time?"

"You'd be amazed at what people say when they think you can't hear them."

I shook my head, looking out over the city once more.

"But she's right you know."

I looked back at Diana. "Huh?"

"About you thinking with your heart."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered sarcastically.

"But it's a good thing. Trust me."

"Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious. Peaches, you have a good heart. Out of all the people I've run the shadows with, you're one of the most genuine individuals I've ever known. I mean, more often than not it ends up coming around to bite you in the ass, but you're more alive than half of the people in this damned city. The yabos in this line of work are always talking about how you can't let your emotions cloud your judgement, how you have to focus on the bottom line or you're going to end up flatlined with nothing to show for it. But you know what I think? Yeah, that line of thinking may keep you from getting scragged for a while, but each day you buy into that line of bullshit, you lose a little bit more of your humanity. It's that kind of thinking that has turned this world of ours upside down. People like that are like machines, performing a function without any real investment in it.

"But you're different. The bottom line doesn't mean near as much to you as being able to look yourself in the mirror and know that this drek-heap of a world we live in hasn't corrupted the humanity in you. Even with all that tech inside of you, sometimes I think you're more human than I could ever be."

She was silent a moment before continuing. "That's what originally attracted me to you—that spark inside of you that lets everyone know that you're something different, that you actually care about what happens to the people around you. It's that spark that makes you such a good leader. I don't know if you know it or not, but there are people out there that would follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked them too."

I scoffed. "Like who?"

"Me, for one. You think I'd be here if I didn't believe in you? For all the posturing about old runs gone bad and backstabbing Johnsons, I'm here for one reason: because I know you'd do the same for me. I know that you'll be my chummer until the day that I die."

I gave her a smile of thanks, mostly because I couldn't think of what else to say. Again our conversation faded away, only to be replaced once more by the sounds of the city.

"Why did we ever call it quits?" I asked suddenly.

"What, call _us_ quits?"

"Yeah."

She sighed. "It was fun while it lasted, but you always wanted more than I could give you. This," she said, opening her arms to encompass the shadowed city, "is my life. I've lived in the shadows for nearly all of it, and I'll probably die in the shadows too. It's the only thing I know, and the only thing I've ever yearned for. But you wanted something beyond that, something more meaningful than an adrenaline rush and a fist full of cred. I saw that in you long before you saw it in yourself. For all her bitching, Sugar fits you better than I ever could. That's why we called it off—because we both knew that we didn't belong together, whether we consciously realized it or not."

I nodded in agreement, taking a final drag off the cigarette before snubbing it out on the step below me. For a moment we just sat there, watching as the sun dipped below the artificial horizon, silhouetting the skyscrapers of downtown Seattle.

"We better get going," I finally said. "We still have work to do."

She stood, flicking her cigarette butt onto the sidewalk. "Yeah, let's get out of here." She started for the door, but a word from me stopped her.

"Diana?"

"Yeah?" she said, turning back to face me.

"Thanks."

She threw me a lopsided grin. "Null sheen, _omae_. Just make sure we all make it out of this in one piece."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

"Blitz, can you see anything?"

"Negative," crackled the reply through my ear piece commlink. "I've got nothing on the ground. Diana?"

There was a long pause before the magician responded. "I count one making a circuit around the catwalks above the first building. The ward is blocking me from seeing anything else."

I looked over to where Sugar crouched beside me in our rooftop perch, her eyes buried in the lenses of a pair of electronic binoculars as she peered down toward the adjacent industrial complex. "I don't see him," she grunted. "He must be on the other side."

"Hold your positions," I whispered into the commlink. "Let's give it a minute."

I sighed and tried to control my breathing. The real drek hadn't even started, and already my pulse was pounding. My hands tightened around the assault rifle I cradled in my lap, but I forced myself to be calm and focus on the scene before me.

The derelict building Sugar and I had set up on top of stood directly adjacent to the abandoned complex, giving us a commanding view of the surrounding area. The sun had set hours before, but still an incandescent pall lingered over the city, brightened by the myriad neon lights that awakened as darkness fell. But unlike the rest of the metroplex, this section of Renton was content to wallow in its squalor at night as it had during the day. Most of the squatters weren't brave or foolhardy enough to walk the streets at night, and the few gangers we saw gave us a wide berth. They could sense that we were there for bigger things than petty turf wars, and they were wise enough to leave us alone.

Sugar suddenly moved, gravel crunching underfoot as she shifted positions. "I see him," she breathed quietly. "Right side of the upper-most catwalk. He's just coming into view."

I hefted the Colt to my shoulder, bending my head over the stock to position my eye behind the scope. I followed Sugar's direction, sweeping the weapon toward the plant's uppermost catwalk—and then I saw him. I could just barely make out his outline in the gloom, so I switched over to thermographic vision, and there he was plain as day—a human-shaped splotch of red and orange slowly moving around upper portion of the building. My targeting cyberware superimposed a red dot over my vision as a targeting reticule, and I slowly let it drift across the man's chest as he strolled along the catwalk.

"I'm taking the shot," I breathed into the commlink.

Without waiting for a response, I caressed the trigger twice. The Colt barked in quick succession, and a short second later the man's body jerked as if struck by a bolt of lightning. He sprawled backward against the building, and finally lay still.

"Got him."

"Roger that," Blitz replied. "We're moving in. Meet us at the rendezvous point."

I clicked an acknowledgement and stood up, hefting the assault rifle into the crook of my arm. Sugar did likewise and scooped up the Uzi III submachine gun at her feet before we headed for the stairs. I knew the abandoned building was probably full of squatters, but as we made our way down the darkened staircase, the only sound to accompany our footfalls was the soft jingle of the multiple grenades we had clipped to our combat vests.

We hit the street outside a minute later and dashed to the sidewalk that ringed the perimeter of the complex, counting on the darkness and lingering aura of menace to keep away any unwanted attention. We soon reached the spot where Diana and Blitz had pulled the van up to the fence. The Steel Lynx was already on the ground, and I could see Diana dressed in an armored duster with a combat shotgun slung over her shoulder as she busily worked at cutting a sizable hole through the chain link. Blitz slouched near-comatose in the driver's seat of the van with a thin optical cable snaking from the dashboard to the datajack located just behind his left ear.

Among the supplies we had requested from Michelson, Blitz had requisitioned a rigging kit so that he could modify the van to accept input from his vehicle control rig and allow his mind to interface directly with the controls of the car. Right now, he was in that semi-conscious state where he and the vehicle were essentially one being.

"How we doing?" I asked as we approached.

"I'm almost done here," Diana muttered over the comm..

"Blitz, you picking up any movement in the complex?"

The Lynx moved in response, its turret twisting around toward the complex. "Negative. I don't think they've missed your boy yet."

"I'm through," Diana announced. She tossed the bolt cutters back inside the van and lowered the cut out section of fence to the ground. With the links gone, there was now a hole large enough for a troll to walk through with some room left over.

"Let's get this show on the road," I said. I jerked open the van side door and grabbed for one of the cardboard boxes that had been shoved behind the passenger side seat. I reached in and pulled out a trio of gas masks, handing one to Diana and one to Sugar, leaving one for myself.

I looked to Sugar as she fitted the mask over her face. "Are you still sure you want to do this? I'm sure Blitz would feel better with someone to watch his meat."

"Blitz will be fine," she said gruffly, "And you need another gun in there. You know that as much as I do. Two people aren't going to be able to cover every angle."

"Still," I said, pulling the gas mask down around my mouth and eyes, "this isn't exactly your thing."

Sugar worked the action on her shotgun, slamming the first shell into the breach with a piercing _chick-chink_. "I've watched you enough over the years. I'll manage."

I sighed and nodded. I'd known her long enough to recognize the tone in her voice. She wasn't going to be swayed. What's more, she was right. We did need that extra gun in there, but I still didn't have to like it. She took risks every time she jacked into the matrix, but when the danger was so imminent and palpable, things seemed somehow different. But none of those feelings changed the reality of the situation. We had a job to do.

I hefted the assault rifle into the crook of my arm and switched it over to automatic fire. "Let's roll."

The others followed me as I moved through the opening, gliding across the broken parking lot like a band of wraiths. The Lynx ground into motion, churning behind us as we quickly covered the ground between us and the factory building. With each pounding step I expected to hear a peal of automatic gunfire from some unseen sentry, but our headlong flight began and ended without incident. My heart leaped up into my throat as I pressed my back against the building's concrete wall. My hands were slimy with sweat inside their combat gloves, and the contents of my stomach roiled about in nervous anticipation like a spinning centrifuge.

I looked over to Diana and gave her a terse nod. She nodded in kind and reached into her pack, pulling forth the shaped explosive we had gotten from Michelson. She advanced forward and placed the charge on the wall, carefully priming the explosives before rigging up the detonator. As she went to work, I slung the assault rifle across my back and plucked a pair of gas grenades from my combat vest, holding one in either hand in nervous anticipation.

Finally Diana finished and retreated back from the charge a safe distance so that we were positioned on either side of the future doorway. She held the detonator aloft, slowly counting down on her fingers. First five, then four. I watched in tense silence as three became two, and then one. I held my breath as she clenched her fist, and her thumb hit the button.

The factory wall blew apart in a shower of cinder block and rebar, throwing up a massive cloud of dust and debris. We were moving before the dust even began to settle. I popped the pins on the grenades I had in hand and blindly chucked them through the newly opened hole. I'd barely cleared the opening before Blitz had the Steel Lynx in motion. I heard a couple loud pops from inside as the grenades went off, spewing green nerostun gas about the factory interior as the lynx churned over the rubble and barreled into the spreading wall of greenish gas. A short second later, a long string of autofire erupted from within as the lynx's paired Ingram Valiants went to work.

The colt once again found its way into the crook of my arm, and I was in motion. As the adrenaline began to surge and the pulse of battle began to thrum, I forgot about all of my previous fears. I forgot all of my worries and anxieties, and instead pushed it all into that dark little corner of my being where extraneous emotions go when reason goes to drek and instincts take over. At that moment, I was no longer a man. I was a junkyard dog with no fear, no remorse, and above all no mercy.

With Diana and Sugar on my heels, I swept through the veil of greenish gas onto the factory floor like an avenging phantom. My finger twitched over the trigger, but as I scanned the smoky interior, I found that the Lynx had already done its job. Several bodies lay strewn about our newly formed entryway, and the drone had advanced fifty feet forward through the cavernous chamber. The room was easily large enough to hold a pair of basketball arenas side by side. It contained a collection of rusted machinery and fallen girders at the center, while a pair of decrepit catwalks ran the length of the interior. A pair of gunmen with assault rifles had perched themselves upon one of them, spraying bullets down at the Lynx. At the moment, the drone was busy trading shots with several figures sheltered within a doorway across the room, so it was largely undefended against the aerial barrage.

"Drek, I'm loosing turret pressure on one of the guns," Blitz said into the comm. "They must have hit one of the hydraulic lines. I could use some help here, P."

"You keep the ones across the way pinned down. We'll take care of the boys up top."

He didn't say anything in response, but the drone opened up with its remaining gun, spewing a thick barrage of high-velocity of shells at the doorway. The men beyond quickly pulled back behind cover, but Blitz kept up the attack, blazing ineffectual fire into the cinderblock walls around them.

I raised the Colt to my shoulder and opened up on the men above. The rounds ricocheted off of the railing and underside of the catwalk, forcing the goons to retreat back from the rail.

"Diana," I shouted aloud, "Gimme a little help here!"

She gave me a grim nod and began to make a series of complex gestures with her hands. As the sequence of motions terminated, she thrust her palms outward toward the catwalk as if trying to push something of immeasurable weight. There was a slight shimmering in the air, and then a wall of invisible force slammed into the walk. The blow flung a shower of dust into the air as the metal bent and shrieked under the immense force. The yabos above gave fearful shouts and clung to the railing for dear life as the walk swayed dangerously to the side.

I used the distraction to close the gap between us and the walk, plucking another grenade from my vest as I went. I popped the pin and baked the grenade for a couple seconds before tossing it upward. The goons above watched in horror as the grenade arced downward, landing with a clatter on the grating at their feet. They tried to dive away, but a split second later the space around them erupted in a roiling blast of high explosive force. The concussion flung the gunmen off of the catwalk like a pair of rag dolls as the blackened metal shrieked and split apart. A huge rent tore through the middle of the catwalk, and the two separate pieces canted downward, crashing to the factory floor with a horrendous clang.

"Alright, you're clear," I shouted into the comm. "Move in!"

Without hesitation, the Lynx lurched into motion. The drone moved past the wreckage of the fallen catwalk, skirting the rusted machinery at the center of the factory floor on its way to the last pocket of resistance. Sugar hefted her shotgun and headed off after the drone. I started to follow as well, but a shout from Diana stopped me in my tracks.

"Look out!" she cried, pointing toward the mound of rusted machinery at the center of the factory floor.

At first I thought she meant more sec-goons were lurking around the rusted hulks, but then it moved—not something moved, _it_ moved. The machines actually moved, shuddering and quaking like palsied mental patients. The derelict machinery began to move, but not as they had in their working lives. They moved as if possessed by some magical force, coalescing into a quivering, pulsating mass that looked somehow alive. Then a form began to rise from the mound. It stood easily twenty feet tall and was vaguely humanoid in shape with girders for arms and legs, and a huge antiquated furnace for a head. The front grill of the boiler yawned open, blazing with a spectral fire like the maw of some frenzied demon.

Before Blitz could move the Lynx away, the rusted monstrosity lashed out with one of its arms. The blow struck the drone with a metallic clang, lifting the half a ton of machinery off the ground and tossing it several yards away. A shower of sparks spewed from the turret as the drone landed roughly on its side, and I heard Blitz scream over the commlink as a massive load of dumpshock surged through his neural pathways.

I started to ask if he was okay, but the words died on my tongue. The corroded behemoth had already turned away from the drone and its baleful gaze was now focused upon me.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"It's a fragging city spirit!" Diana shouted

Without thinking I shouldered the Colt and clamped down on the trigger, spewing a stream of high-velocity slugs at the rusted monstrosity. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off of its corroded hide, but still the spirit continued to claw its way free of the detritus at its feet.

"Bullets aren't going to work, goddamn it!" Diana yelled. "There's not enough force of will behind a gun!"

"You could have told me that earlier," I growled as the magazine ran dry and the Colt clicked on empty.

"Can't you dispel it or something?" Sugar asked.

Daina shook her head. "I can try, but it's going to take a while. I can't do it and concentrate on the rest of the drek going on in here too."

The city spirit stooped by a portion of the fallen catwalk and hooked its hands under the torn metal. With a rending shriek, the spirit tore the catwalk from its moorings and flung it in our direction. We scattered as the walk bounced and clattered along the concrete floor. The somersaulting debris barely missed us, sailing just inches above our heads before finally coming to a halt scarcely ten feet away. Before we had a chance to react, the spirit had already started moving toward us.

"The shaman who summoned this thing has to be around here somewhere," Diana shouted. "I'll take care of the spirit. You two find that fragger and flatline him!"

She didn't wait for a response and raised her hands above her head in the beginnings of an incantation. I pulled Sugar after me as Diana finished her spell and thrust her hands toward the spirit. A wave of bluish fire leapt from her fingertips and splashed against the magical behemoth's chest. The fire in its furnace blazed intensely for a brief moment, but otherwise the spirit seemed unphased as it closed the last few paces to Diana's position.

I didn't see what happened after that because soon Sugar and I were engaged in a headlong flight along the factory floor. The spirit left us alone in favor of Diana, but we still weren't out of the woods yet. One of the sec-goons fired on us from the far doorway, but a blast from Sugar's shotgun sent him diving for cover. We reached the doorway a few seconds later. I pressed my back against the wall and ejected the spent clip from my Colt. I slammed a fresh one in and chambered the first bullet, and glanced to Sugar where she stood on the side of the doorway. She finished reloading her weapon and gave me a curt nod. I nodded in return and leaned around the corner, triggering a pair of minigrenades from the Colt's under-barrel grenade launcher.

The first round slammed into the far wall before a burst of automatic fire chased me back through the doorway. I switched back to standard mode and blindly reached around the corner to spray the room with suppression fire. Inside I heard the room's occupants scatter, evidently diving for cover.

"Go!" I shouted to Sugar, anxious to press our advantage before the yabos inside were able to recover. We swept in, weapons held before us like executioners marching toward the gallows.

The room inside was a mess. It had evidently been an office once because various bits of decrepit office furniture lay strewn about the interior. Several of the desks had been upended and positioned near the back corner where the last pocket of resistance was holed up. Sugar opened fire at another goon as he made a headlong rush for the make-shift barrier. Her hasty shots blasted huge chunks out of the cinderblock wall behind him, but still he made it through the hail of bullets unscathed.

I hadn't fully raised my weapon before I clamped down on the trigger. I rode the recoil of the yammering assault rifle upward, stitching a ragged line across the floor and into the far wall. The gunman leaped into the air just as a trio of bullets slammed into his side. Instead of sailing over the barricade as he had intended, his body slammed into one of the desks head first. He struck with a bone-crushing thud and sunk to the ground.

Even before his body had come to a stop, we were in motion. I headed straight for the barricade as Sugar swept around to the side. With the neurostun gas permeating the room, I didn't expect the rest of them to offer up much resistance, but still I wasn't taking any chances. Thus I wasn't surprised when, with a hacking cough, one of them rose up behind a fallen filing cabinet. He was dressed in a black duster with a mangy mane of hair and multiple talismans hanging from his neck and shoulders—no doubt the shaman we were looking for. In spite of all the gas, he coughed and started to move his hands in the act of casting a spell.

I clamped down on the trigger and pumped a trio of shots into his abdomen. The air around him briefly flashed in an opaque film as the rounds slammed into some kind of magical barrier, but the force of the blast was still enough to knock him off his feet. He fell backward, his head and arms curling inward toward his body like a scared turtle drawing up into its shell. I advanced forward, pumping more rounds into his fallen form. As I poured the fire on, the magical shield grew fainter and fainter until finally it flashed and disappeared altogether. Crimson flowers bloomed on his chest as lead met with tender flesh. He gave a gurgling sigh and went limp as his lifeblood spread around him in a growing pool of vermillion.

Then the Colt's magazine clicked dry. I started to reach for another reload, but froze as I caught a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye. One of Rei's yabos stood just to my side—the same suit we'd seen at the distribution center earlier that day. Despite the neurostun gas, he stood tall over the sprawling female form at his feet, making it painfully obvious he had some sort of toxin filtration system installed in his meat. More importantly, though, he had an Ares Predator in hand, holding it unwaveringly at my face.

He started to say something, but suddenly his knee cap exploded in a haze of red as a slug from Sugar's shotgun tore into the unprotected joint. The Predator fell from his hands, and he pitched forward as his leg literally went to jelly. I glanced to where Sugar stood just a few meters away and gave her a nod of thanks, then turned my attention back to the suit. I gave his face a few love taps from the butt of my rifle and tickled his ribs a bit with my steel-toed boots. When I was satisfied he wasn't going to be getting up any time soon, I hauled his shattered form off of the woman beneath him and rolled him over to the side.

Rei lay on her stomach, her chocolate-brown hair strewn about her head in disarray. She wore a pair of jeans and a leather jacket with a Seattle Timber Wolves logo emblazoned on the back—a far cry from the charcoal business suit I'd seen her in last. At first I thought she was unconscious, but then she gasped, reaching for the goon's Predator where it had fallen on the floor.

Calmly I slung the empty colt across my back and drew the Warhawk from its shoulder holster. I grabbed her by the nape of her neck and pressed the muzzle of the revolver into the back of her head. "Make another move and I blow your fragging head off."

With the effects of the gas, I didn't know if she actually understood what I was saying or not, but she sure as hell understood what my gun was saying. She froze, her fingers just inches from their prize.

In the faint light, I caught a glimmer from the inscription along the weapon's side—_With this bullet, I thee wed_. I wanted so badly to plug a hole in the back of her head and end this thing once and for all. I wanted my revenge so bad that I could taste it, fermenting in the back of my palate like a swig of bathtub gin. But I couldn't go through with it. My vengeance would have to be sated later. We still had a job to do, and I wanted answers.

I growled and scooped up the other pistol, tucking it into my waist band before grabbing Rei by the back of her jacket and rolling her over face-up. Her Eurasian features were red and flushed, and her cheeks were streaked with tears from the gas, but she still looked the same as I remembered. Again I pushed down extraneous emotions and pulled a tranq patch from one of my vest pockets. I peeled off the backing and pressed the patch to her neck. As soon as she realized what was going on, she started to struggle, but her fight was short lived. Absorbed directly through her skin, the drug took effect almost immediately, and in a matter of minutes she was unconscious.

I bent forward and hoisted her body onto my shoulder, clicking the commlink as I went.

"Diana, how are things going out there?"

The voice that filtered through seemed haggard and drained. "I've got things covered. Just mopping up now."

"Okay, we're on our way out. Blitz, you still there?"

"Yeah," came the weary voice. "That dumpshock when the Lynx bought it through me for a loop, but I'm alright."

"Any sign of trouble out there?"

"Nope. I think we scared the drek out of some squatters, but I'm not getting a peep out of Lonestar or any of the gangs."

"Good. Get ready to slot and run. We're out of here."

With Rei in tow, Sugar and I made for the exit. As soon as we reached the factory floor, we saw Diana and the city spirit, but things had changed since the last time we laid eyes on them. The spirit's corporeal form had collapsed on the ground, and Diana stood at its head where the furnace still glowed faintly. Upon our arrival, she lurched forward and struck the thing's head with the palm of her hand. There was a brief shudder before the light in the furnace finally died and the behemoth's rusted parts clattered to the ground, inanimate once more.

She straightened as we approached and took off her gas mask with a weary sigh. "Goddamn that sucker was pissed off."

"Are you okay?" I asked

She nodded. "Yeah, all that magic just took it out of me."

Sugar moved over and helped her to her feet. "Good, now let's get out of here before people start snooping around."

"Agreed."

We headed out the way we had come in, scrambling over rubble and debris on our way to where the van waited just beyond the fence-line. I heaved Rei's body into the back and stepped up after her. Sugar and I helped Diana in, and then Blitz hit the accelerator, sending us screeching off into the night.

I ripped my gas mask off and collapsed in the floor, my breath coming in weary pants as the battle exertion finally caught up with me.

Blitz craned his neck backward to look at me. "You gonna call Michelson and arrange the meet?"

I swallowed and shook my head. "No."

"No?"

Suddenly all eyes were upon me as I shook my head again. "No. We're going to get some answers before we hand her over. We're going back to the safe house. Michelson can wait a few hours."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

A trickle of dirty brown water splattered into the kitchen sink, slowly strengthening into a stream of fetid liquid. The building's ancient plumbing system groaned and quivered for a moment before the flow evened out. I held my glass under the faucet and watched as it filled with the dun-colored water like so much sewage gushing into a gutter. As soon as the cup was full enough, I turned it off and grabbed the pill bottle off the counter, shaking out a pair of tablets into the palm of my hand. I held the glass aloft, watching as the swirling motes of dirt and grit slowly settled to the bottom like the little pieces of drek and refuse that always seemed to filter down through the muddied waters of the 'plex.

Finally I sighed and bit the bullet, popping the pills into my mouth before chasing them with the glass's contents. The water washed down my gullet like a flushing toilet, and I had to grit my teeth together against the foul taste that invaded my mouth.

"What was that?" I heard Sugar ask from behind me.

I turned to where she stood at the entrance to the kitchen, her arms folded across her chest and a weary look plastered upon her face. "Longhaul," I said with a choking breath as I dumped the rest of the glass down the sink. "Sleeping isn't going to be an option any time soon. This'll help keep a body in motion for a couple days. You should probably take some too."

"Maybe later," she muttered, moving across to the room's single grime-streaked window. She gave a sigh, gazing out the glass at the pre-dawn cityscape as the sounds of the Pakistani couple next door filtered through the building's paper-thin walls.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she said without looking at me.

"Sure doesn't sound that way."

"It's nothing."

"C'mon. Talk to me."

She sighed and turned away from the window. "I don't like it—any of it, any of this. We should have just turned her over to Michelson as soon as we laid hands on her and ended this clusterfrag once and for all."

"Waiting a couple hours isn't going to kill him," I retorted with a snort.

"Yeah, but it might kill _us_. You know the first two rules of running the shadows—never trust a Johnson and never deviate from the contract. Right now you seem to be doing both. It isn't good business, and it isn't smart."

"He can wait," I repeated more forcefully this time. "I want my answers. I want to know why she stabbed me in the back."

"Goddamn you, Peaches," she swore, her face contorting into a mask of anger. "That thick skull of yours is going to get you killed some day."

"I could live with that," I growled. "At least then I wouldn't flatline with my head buried in the sand."

"Yeah, well what about me? What about Blitz and Diana? Are you ready to see us dead to get your answers?"

"It won't come to that. Once I find out what I want to know, we'll turn her over. I promise. No one else is going to die."

"How can you know that?"

Before I could respond, another voice spoke from behind us.

"Ahem."

Diana stood framed in the doorways, arms braced on either side of the portal. "When you two are done, you might want to come in here. She's awake."

I gave Sugar a momentary glance and then nodded to Diana, following her into the living room. There Diana and Blitz had taken a chair from the kitchen and set it up in the middle of the room in front of the coffee table. Rei sat in it, bound hand and foot with enough duct tape to hold someone twice her size. At the moment she had a pillow case cinched over her head and around her neck.

Slowly I moved toward her, drawing the Predator pistol I'd claimed earlier that night. She stiffened as I approached and leaned forward to set the pistol on the table.

"Who's there?" she breathed in that voice that sounded as if she was trying to enunciate just a bit too much.

My hand went to the holster at my shoulder and drew forth the Warhawk with calm deliberance. I reached out, grabbing a handful of hair and pillow case all at once. She flinched like a dog that had been beaten one too many times as I thrust the revolver against the side of her head, painfully grinding the muzzle into her scalp.

"Wh-what do you want?" she stammered fearfully

"I want to know why you fragged us over—before I blow your brains over the wall," I sneered.

"What are you talking about? Who are you?"

I jerked the pillow case off of her head, flooding her light-deprived eyes with a deluge of illumination. She squeezed her eyelids together, averting her tear-streaked face from the overhead lights.

"Take a good look," I growled.

It took her a moment, but finally she cracked open her slanted eyes, raising her gaze to meet mine. Her mouth gaped as realization struck. "Oh my God. Peaches? What's going on? Where am I?"

"What's going on?" I gave a cold laugh. "You of all people should know."

"But—"

"Shut the frag up, bitch," I growled through clenched teeth. "I'm asking the questions now."

She shut up. Bewilderment and panic showed in her eyes. She was a good actor. That was for sure. Too bad I wasn't in the market for bulldrek tonight.

"Now why'd you do it?"

"Why'd I do what?" she asked, trying to sound genuinely confused.

"Things getting too hot for you? Did you decide to slot and run and cut your losses?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Cut the crap. We know all about it—the investigation, the nanites, all of it. We also know how you tried to geek us to save your own ass."

"What? No, of course not!"

"Don't lie to me!" I dug my hand in my pocket and pulled out the two rumpled Polaroids I had taken back when this all started. I shoved them beneath her face. "You want me to believe these goons just dropped in on us for a fragging tea party? Come off it. Michelson told us everything."

"What did Michelson tell you?" she asked, looking around at the others in the room.

"Only that you've got the Corporate Council all over your ass. And that you're looking for a way to save your own hide before they take away your company and lock you up for a decade or two."

"And that we were the only thing that concretely linked you to the theft of those nanites," Diana said coldly, speaking for the first time since the interrogation began.

"No, that's not true!"

"Another lie," Diana snarled.

"Yeah, just like you lied to me when you told me that apartment didn't exist anymore—that you were going to take care of things. But you didn't do any of it. You didn't have any intention of it. You just wanted to have your own little pocket ace."

"Where are you getting all of this? I deleted them. I deleted all the records. There wasn't anything left!"

"That's bullshit and you know it." I looked over to Sugar. "D'you still have that file?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Hold on a sec." She went back into the bedroom and came back with the Ayanami memo in hand.

I took it from her and held it before Rei. "Now what do you have to say?"

She paused a moment, scrutinizing the crumpled paper. Finally she looked up at me. "I didn't write this."

"Yeah, right."

"Peaches, you have to believe me," she implored

"I don't have to believe jack shit."

"You really think I sent those people after you?"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"Wake up, Peaches. I was the only one in Ayanami who knew about your place. Why would I try to kill you when hardly anyone knew about you, let alone knew where to find you? And if I was going to kill you, I sure as hell wouldn't have sent a couple of two-bit hitmen to do the job. I know you, and I know what you can do."

I was silent, mulling over her words.

"Peaches," she continued, "Michelson set us up. He was the one who set up this whole investigation with the Corporate Council. If he can get me prosecuted for industrial espionage, he can get me out of the way and seize enough shares of the company to gain control of it for himself. He wants to make a display of it with a public trial, and that's why he needed you—to flush me out. And I'm sure he knew that the only way you would get involved was to make it personal."

Outside the apartment I could hear the sound of a low-flying helicopter passing over. The window frames rattled from the reverberating noise, but the helo passed on and the sound began to fade.

"Why would he need us?" Sugar asked. "I know at least a dozen other shadowrunners who could have done the same job we did in tracking you down. It doesn't make sense for him to stir up a bunch of drek on the off chance that we'd be able to find you."

"He needs more than hearsay if he's going to convict me in an actual trial. He needs concrete evidence. He needs you." She leveled her gaze at me.

"And he can't just manufacture more evidence like he supposedly did already?" I scoffed.

She shook her head. "He needs something that will stand up to scrutiny—like you. You were there Peaches. You participated in the whole operation. You don't think they can't just get a magician to rifle through your mind and find the information they need?"

I opened my mouth to give Rei another retort, but Diana shushed me to silence.

"You hear that?"

I strained my ears, dialing up my hearing amplification and select sound filter. Then I heard it. It took me a moment to realize what that _whoosh-whoosh_ sound was, but then it hit me—the chopper was headed back. Something wasn't right.

"Blitz," I ordered, "Take a look outside and see what's going on."

Blitz moved to the window and pulled the blinds apart, peering out into the early morning night. He craned his neck toward the sky, seeking some glimpse of the whirly bird above. "Uh, this doesn't look good. That's not a civie transport up there. It's military, except all painted up in blue and white colors."

"Blue and white?" Rei asked breathlessly.

Blitz nodded. "Yeah. And I don't think it's going anywhere. It's hovering over the roof."

Rei turned to me, her face deathly pale. "That's not just any chopper. That's an Ayanami strike team."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

My mouth suddenly went dry like someone had stuffed a wad of cotton balls down my gullet.

Sugar swore. "They tracked us. I _told _you!"

"If they're following normal tactics, they're disgorging shock troops on the roof as we speak," Rei interjected. "We don't have much time."

I could have kicked myself for my stupidity. I should have known—should have listened to Sugar. But I couldn't afford to beat myself up over it—not yet, at least. Rei was right. We had to get out of there.

I looked to Blitz. "How much of the equipment did you bring up from the van?"

He swallowed hard. "Um, none. I didn't think we'd need any of it."

"Drek," Sugar swore again.

I scooped up the Predator off of the table, shoving it into the back of my waistband and sliding the Warhawk back into its holster. "Alright, we'll have to make do with what we have. Let's get moving. Slot and run." I started for the door.

"Um, hello?" Rei struggled with the duct tape binding her wrists. "A little help here?"

I stopped and looked back at her.

"What, you're just going to leave me here?" She looked at me pleadingly

"Yes," Sugar snarled.

"No," I said firmly.

"What?"

"She's right," Diana said evenly. "We can't afford to take her with us. We shouldn't even leave her alive. She can't be trusted."

I growled under my breath and headed for the kitchen, grabbing one of the knives out of the drawer. I stalked back into the living room, brandishing the rusted blade before me as I approached Rei. Her eyes grew as large as goose eggs and she began to protest, but her cries stopped as I dipped the blade toward her wrist and neatly sliced off her bonds.

"What are you doing? Sugar exclaimed. "We don't have time for this!"

"We're not leaving her behind," I said as I helped cut off the rest of the duct tape. "If she's so important to Michelson, then we have to hold onto her until we can sort this out. She's the only bargaining chip we have."

"Gee, thanks," Rei muttered as she stood up, massaging her wrists.

"Would you rather go with us, or with the goon squad outside?"

The choice was an easy one for her. "Point taken. Give me a weapon and let's get out of here."

I scoffed. "I don't trust you _that_ much. Just keep your head down and follow directions." I looked to Blitz. "Take a peek out the door and see what the situation looks like out there."

The rigger nodded and drew a slim machine pistol from the folds of his jacket, padding over to the door. He glanced out the peep hole and then stuck his head out the door. After a moment he called back, "It's all clear!"

"Alright, let's blow."

I headed through the kitchen toward the door, but Diana again stopped me in my tracks.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Do you hear that?" She tilted her head, straining to hear.

"It's probably just the chopper."

"No. It's something else. I think it's—"

She was suddenly cut off as the den windows shattered with a tremendous crescendo. A pair of troopers clad in midnight blue combat fatigues swung in, submachine guns blazing before they had even detached their repelling cables.

I dove to the side of the kitchen away from the doorway as the two yabos filled the air with a hail of bullets. Despite my quick action, I wasn't fast enough. A pair of rounds struck my shoulder and arm, but the dull ache told me that the ballistic weave of my jacket had held. Diana, Rei, and Sugar followed suit, sliding across the linoleum floor like errant missiles. I looked around for Blitz, but he had already pushed his way into the hall and was out of sight.

"I told you we didn't have time for this drek," Sugar shouted over the din of gunfire.

I grimaced and pulled out the Predator, sliding the piece toward her. "Baby, just shut up and cover me."

"What are you going to do?" she asked as she snatched up the weapon.

"Don't worry about it. Just get ready to run like hell when I tell you."

She swore and dutifully rose into a crouch, leaning toward the doorway. "Now?"

"Now."

Sugar grunted and leaned out toward the doorway, discharging shots as fast as she could pull the trigger. There was a muffled shout from the living room as the Ayanami sec-men dove for cover.

"Go!" I yelled, springing into motion myself. I surged toward the kitchen table, hefting it up before me to provide cover for our retreat. The others were already moving, heading for the door as I moved to cover them.

The sec-goons figured out what we were doing pretty quick, and soon they opened fire, slamming rounds into the raised face of the table and sending me staggering back toward the door. I stubbornly kept my feet moving, getting closer and closer to the promised salvation offered by the hallway. But before I could reach my goal, the Ayanami goons got smart—the sudden stinging impact on my shins told me that much.

My legs suddenly went to jelly as the table clattered to the floor and I sprawled backward out into the doorway. I hit the ground, momentarily dazed. When my vision cleared I struggled to lean up, looking down at my legs. I expected to see a torn and bloody mess where my unprotected shins were, but instead I saw nothing but a trio of flattened slugs where they had impacted along the limbs.

It wasn't live ammunition. They were using gel rounds.

I struggled to regain my footing, but my pain-addled legs were slow to respond. I could hear the corporate troopers hurrying toward me, but like someone just recently awoken from a deep slumber, I could hardly force myself to move.

Suddenly I felt a strong arm hook underneath my shoulder and heard Blitz's youthful voice in my ear. "C'mon P, this ain't no time to be laying around!" His machine pistol barked from somewhere behind me, striking one of our assailants full in the chest. His partner dove for cover as the other sprawled backward onto the kitchen floor. Even as Blitz helped haul me to my feet, the sec-goon was moving again, his armor having stopped the worst of the damage.

Then Sugar's arms were around me. She hooked her arm under my shoulder and helped me to stand as Diana moved toward the doorway, her hands dancing in the intricate pattern of a spell.

I glanced back into the apartment just as the spell finished to see one of the Ayanami men drop his weapon and arch his back as if every nerve of his body were on fire. He screamed, holding his hands to his head before dropping to the ground like a leaden weigh, his brains scrambled by Diana's manabolt spell. His compatriot evidently figured he was overmatched, and fell back into the living room before Diana could sling another spell.

I took advantage of the brief reprieve to lean against the wall and catch my breath. So far the hallway was still quiet. Even the Pakistani couple next door had quieted down in lieu of the sound of gunfire.

"Peaches, your legs…" Sugar insisted quietly.

"Gel rounds," I breathed, slowly catching my breath.

"What?"

"They're not using hard ammo. They're trying to take us alive."

"Finally, some good news for fragging once," Blitz said.

"Yeah, well we don't have time to sit here and chat," Diana snapped. "Peaches, can you move?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm starting to get some feeling back. I'll be okay."

"Then let's move. I know those two weren't alone. They're bound to have more friends on the way."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

I staggered down the hall toward the stairwell, my legs growing stronger with each step. Diana was ahead of me as she started to grab for the door when it burst open of its own accord, smacking her square in the temple. She reeled backward onto the ground, but I didn't see how she fell. My eyes were riveted on the blue-clad figure that now stood in the doorway.

Fortunately for me, the yabo in front of me was as surprised as I was. He lurched backward, holding his arm out toward me as the submachine gun in his hand spat lead like a mechanized cobra. I was faster though, dodging to the side and slamming the door on his outstretched arm. The Warhawk was in my hand in an instant, and I shoved the barrel into his trapped wrist. I pulled the trigger and the hammer tripped forward. Then the man's wrist burst apart in an explosion of gore and bone as the Warhawk's magnum round tore through ballistic weave and tender flesh alike. The trooper screamed like a wounded goat, dropping the machine gun and reeling backward into the stairwell.

I slung the door open and started to advance forward, meaning to finish the job on the wounded sec-man—but the squad of blue-clad troopers coming down the stairs behind him weren't going to let me. I threw it into reverse faster than a crystal meth junkie and spun back out into the hall just as a burst of autofire slammed into the door behind me.

"They're on the stairs!"

"No drek!" Sugar shouted aloud. "So what now, Einstein?"

I pressed my back against the door, racking my brain for another way out. The sudden jolt of someone throwing his shoulder into door behind me must have jostled something in my brain, because it suddenly came to me. Diana threw her weight against it along with mine, pausing only to scoop up the submachine gun that had fallen at my feet.

"The elevator," I said, looking around at the others.

All I got were blank stares in return.

"That's not going to help us, Peaches," said Diana. "It's broken, remember? It's stuck on the seventh floor."

Again something struck the other side of the door.

"We don't have time for this," I growled. "Just trust me. Now get moving!"

Sugar growled something under her breath, but she and rest of them headed off down the corridor anyway as I reached around the door, blindly firing a pair of shots where I thought the sec-men should be. A cry and groan issued from the stairwell, but I didn't linger to see what the aftermath was. I was already rushing back down the hallway after the others.

Diana and Blitz made the turn toward the elevator and dashed down the connecting hallway just as the stairway door burst open. Bullets chased my coat tails as I dashed after them and the others. I scrambled around the corner, my shins aching as if someone had taken a crowbar to them for an hour or two, but I stubbornly kept going, rebounding off of a wall before staggering into Rei where she and the others stood before the elevator.

"What the hell do we do now?" Sugar fairly screamed.

"Just help me with the door. Diana, Blitz, cover us as best you can."

"Easier said than done," Blitz grumbled.

Diana gave him a withering stare. "Don't worry, Peaches. We'll get it done. C'mon Blitz. Let's go." She unslung her submachine gun and headed for the corner. Soon they were trading shots with the Ayanami troops in a fusillade of automatic fire.

"So what do we do?" Rei asked.

"_You _are going to sit there. Sugar and I are gonna get this door open."

Sugar and I moved to the door, hooking our fingers into the crack of the rusted elevator doors. We heaved with all of our might, struggling and grunting with a kind of reckless abandon known only to sex-fiends and chip heads. At first they didn't budge an inch, but thanks to our orkish strength, they slowly began to groan open, revealing the yawning blackness of the elevator shaft.

I peered into the darkness, looking up at the taut steel cables as they snaked downward from the gloom above. For once, I was thankful that this was such a decrepit building. Newer elevators used magnetic tracks and grooves set into the walls of the shaft to move the car up and down—it was safer, more economic, and less likely to have a catastrophic breakdown. But this one still had the older model used late in the twentieth century with cables and pulleys and a generator. Switching to thermal vision, I could just barely make out the form of the elevator suspended above overhead, which was definitely a good thing, because that meant the Ayanami men couldn't use it to get to us.

I had to tighten my grip on the doorway as a sudden explosion rocked the building like the grumblings of an awakening giant. I reeled backward into the hallway, drawing the Warhawk once again as I called down the hallway to Diana and Blitz where a cloud of hazy smoke was billowing out to envelop them. "What the hell was that?"

Diana gave a hacking cough, covering her mouth as she scrambled back toward the elevator. "God damn grenades. I don't think they're playing nice anymore."

"Are you still alright?"

"Yeah," she wheezed as she tossed away her gun. "I'm outta ammo. I've still got a couple spells under my belt though."

"Do what you can. Blitz, you're heading down first. Get the doors open and Sugar and Rei will be down right after you."

The young rigger gave me a quick nod and holstered his machine pistol, clambering out onto the steel elevator cable and beginning to shimmy his way down. I wanted to watch him make his way down and make sure that he didn't run into any trouble, but the Ayanami goons weren't going to give us that opportunity.

The first one came around the corner with his gun blazing. He evidently thought to take us by surprise before we could react, but he was in for a surprise himself. The slug from my Warhawk caught him just below the chin, puncturing his carotid artery and sending up a plume of bright red arterial spray as he toppled backward. His dying moans forced his friends to rethink their strategy.

"Alright, I'm at the bottom!" Blitz called up from the elevator shaft.

"Sugar, Rei," I shouted. "Go!"

Sugar took a short leap off the edge, clinging to the elevator cable as she began to make her way down. Rei took off her jacket, wrapping it around her arms before she too began her descent.

I turned away from the shaft just as a small roundish object bounced and clattered its way down the hallway.

"Grenade!" Diana shouted.

I sprang forward, a nervous ball of adrenaline and fear. I didn't have time to think. I merely reacted, lashing out with my foot. My toe connected with the grenade and sent it spinning in the other direction. It rebounded off of the wall of the other hallway and then detonated in a halo of concussive force that shook the floor like giant's footfall.

I had hoped for a brief reprieve, but the sec men down the hall really didn't care what I wanted. They came around the corner en masse, filling the air around us with a hail of lead. I shrank back to the elevator, firing my Warhawk as I went. The hammer tripped forward and the cylinder spun, and suddenly the lead trooper was sprawling backward against his fellows with two copper-jacketed slugs flattened on the front of his armored vest. I worked the trigger again, but I all heard was a hollow click. I was out of ammo.

I swore and holstered the weapon, looking back to Diana where she had flattened herself out against another apartment door. "I'm out! Going to secondary weapon."

"Gimme some cover and I'll see what I can do."

I nodded and leaned out around the hall, my cyber-hand leading the way. The Ceska Black Scorpion installed within its metal parts spoke, spitting a pair of bursts at the advancing sec-men. The small caliber bullets didn't do much against their armor, but the impact did send one or two of them reeling, and forced the others to press up against the walls for cover.

Diana used that time to finish her spell. At first I couldn't see what happened, but the heavy footballs behind the knotted sec-men told me something was up. Then a monstrous figure rounded the corner—a troll easily four meters tall, stooping in the confines of the low hallway and carrying a massive mini gun slung under one arm. He paused a moment only to offer a sardonic grin before opening fire, churning out bullets like a mad organ grinder. The Ayanami troopers hit the floor, trying to make themselves as small as possible against the withering fire.

At first I balked. The figure seemed somehow familiar. And then I realized who he was. That "troll" was the street samurai Brumby from the TV show "Shadowalk." Across from me, Diana had a big grin plastered on her face.

"Nice, huh?"

"We're through down here!" I heard Sugar call up from the bottom of the elevator.

"Alright, we're coming down!" I called back. "C'mon, get moving!" I yelled to Diana.

I took her arm, steadying her as she moved to the edge of the floor and reached out to take hold of the cable. I still had my hand on her arm when the muffled explosion sounded from above. Diana was teetering on the edge, fingers grasping for the cable when I glanced upward—and saw the elevator car hurtling down toward us.

My chemically enhanced reflexes sprang into action. I snatched her back from the yawning abyss just as the elevator car careened by, trailing its broken cables behind it as they whipped about, lashing at the sides of the shaft like maddened snakes.

"What the hell?" Diana gasped.

I leaned into the shaft and looked up, spying a window of light where the top floor elevator doors had been opened. "They must have planted a charge on the cable above the car on the top floor," I said as I leaned back in.

I looked back to where the sec-men were just starting to realize that the bullets that were supposedly flying at them weren't hitting anything—and that the mass of muscle standing in front of them wasn't really even there to begin with. We didn't have much time.

"How the hell are we going to get out now?"

"I've got an idea," Diana said.

"What is it?"

"Just hold on to me."

"What the—"

She cast a glance back to where the sec men were just beginning to pick themselves up off the ground. "Just do it!"

I growled under my breath and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around her shoulders as she pressed her body into mine and laced her hands together around the small of my back. I could feel her hands moving in some intricate pattern, but what spell she had in mind I couldn't imagine.

"I don't think this is what they mean when they say 'embrace death with open arms,'" I grumbled.

"Quit talking and jump."

"What?"

"Jump!" Before I knew it, Diana had thrown her weight into me, sending me toppling over into the yawning chasm of the elevator shaft.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

For a split second I panicked. My heart lurched up into my throat as a sudden sense of weightlessness took hold. I expected to see the floors whizzing by my head before we slammed into the ruined elevator car below, but as I opened my fear-clenched eyes, I saw something totally different. We were floating, light as a feather, down the elevator shaft. Diana's face was contorted into a look of extreme concentration. Her breathing labored as she softly settled us to the ground, sighing wearily at the magical effort.

I wanted to ask her if she was okay, but we didn't have time. I ran over to the elevator top hatch, and with some tugging, managed to get it open. "Let's move," I said to Diana, ushering her through the hole.

I glanced upward as she dropped through the hole to see a helmeted face peering down from the floor we had just come from. I snapped off a shot from my cyber pistol—not that I expected to hit him. I just wanted to give him a little something to think about before he got too brazen. By that time Diana was through the hatch, so I jumped down after her, wriggling through the narrow aperture just as something clanked off the top of the elevator car. I knew immediately what it was.

"Get down!" I shouted to Diana, rushing forward to scoop her up with both arms. I made it just outside the elevator before the grenade went off, tearing through the ceiling of the elevator car like a ravenous canine. I could feel the heat wash across the back of my neck as I toppled to the ground, shielding Diana with my back.

"Are you okay?" a worried voice asked.

I looked up to see Blitz, Sugar, and Rei standing against the glass front of the building's lobby . "Yeah, I'm fine," I groaned, waving them off. "Get to the van and get her started up. We'll be right behind you."

They took off out the front door as I picked myself up off the floor, helping Diana as I went. "You okay?"

She nodded, still gasping for breath. "Yeah. That last spell just took a lot out of me."

I hooked my arm under hers. "C'mon, let's get going."

She nodded wordlessly and staggered to her feet. With my help, we started for the door. I had just laid my hand on the handle when I heard a door bang open. I twisted to see the stairway door yawning open just as a trio of Ayanami troopers rushed through with guns blazing.

Glass shattered as bullets from the wide-angle spray struck the panes behind us, and a pair of rounds impacted against my shoulder and chest. The ballistic weave of my jacket didn't help as much as I would have liked. I did my best to ignore the pain—about as easy as ignoring it when a troll hits you with a baseball bat—but I didn't have any choice. I staggered and jerked Diana back behind me as I pointed my cyberhand toward the on-coming troops. The weapon implanted within that limb spoke, pounding three slugs into the chest of the lead man. He pitched backward, hitting the ground hard. I couldn't be sure if any of the rounds punctured his vest, but his fellows seemed to think better of headlong pursuit and fell back toward the doorway.

"Move!" I shouted to Diana, shoving her forward toward the door.

She staggered through what remained of the glass door, scrambling out into the street. I moved to follow, but as I turned to flee a truck hit me from behind—at least, that was what it felt like. In reality, a quartet of gel rounds slammed into my back, pitching me forward through the doorway and onto the ground. My face hit the pavement, shards of glass grinding into my cheeks and chest like a thousand monofilament pinpricks. I tried to shunt away the pain, willing my legs to keep moving—but adrenaline can only take you so far.

I scrambled forward on hands and knees, desperate to round the corner out of the Ayanami goons' line of fire. Suddenly, though, I found myself facing another pair of booted feet. I feared one of them had already circled around to cut me off, but as I looked up, I found it was Diana's face looming over me. The weary look from before had drained from her face, replaced instead with a visage full of resolute anger.

"Enough!" she shouted, raising her hands above her head.

With an enraged yell, she thrust them toward the apartment lobby. I twisted around to see the three Ayanami troopers poised in the middle of the foyer. An invisible force struck the ceiling above them, blasting apart plaster and ferrocrete in a shower of dust. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, and then with a groaning shriek, several tons of girders, concrete, and plaster tumbled down from the ceiling right above them. There was a series of muffled screams, they were quickly overtaken by the sound of falling rubble.

Bricks and mortar were still trickling to the floor as I rolled over, gazing up at Diana. "Thanks," I breathed.

Her face was bathed in sweat, and her skin had lost all of its color. She looked physically and emotionally drained. I immediately knew what had happened.

Theoretically, individual magicians were capable of just about anything. But in practical terms, a magician's body was like a fuse—it could transmit and shape magical energy, or mana, up until a certain point. If too much current passed through the transistor, the fuse would trip—i.e., the magician would pass out from the strain of it all. At least, that was the way it was explained to me.

But right now, Diana looked as if her fuse was about to blow. She wavered uncertainly as she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she teetered forward, collapsing to the ground.

I picked myself up off the pavement and staggered to her side just as the van screeched to a halt in front of the apartment. Sugar rolled the side door open, beckoning me forward.

"Come on, get in. We've got to get out of here!"

I pushed past the pains—all the bumps, bruises, and injuries—and stooped, picking up Diana's limp form from the pavement. I hustled over to the van as fast as my bruised limbs could carry me, gently laying her into the rear of the van before climbing in myself. Sugar slammed the door behind me, and Blitz peeled out of the parking lot, racing out into the city streets.

I lay back on the van floor, my breath coming in gasps. All of the adrenaline and fear that had been surging through my body finally began to recede, but as my pulse began to slow, it was replaced by something else. Pain. My chest hurt. My back stung. My lungs burned, and my legs ached. But I was alive. We all were. For that I could be thankful.

"Is Diana okay?" Blitz called back from the front where he was jacked into the vehicle's control rig.

I nodded wearily. "Yeah. She's just unconscious. She was slinging some serious mojo back there. She should be okay in a few hours. For now, worry about getting us out of here. And lose that chopper."

"You got it, P." Blitz spun the van through a series of expert turns, threading his way through the city streets as if he had a road map tattooed to the back of his hand.

Rei knelt by Diana's side, checking her pulse. "I think it's a little more than that. Her pulse is racing."

I groaned and sat up. "Blitz, we've got to get out of here."

The rigger didn't answer as he turned the wheel hard, whipping the van onto the Highway 515 overpass at breakneck speed. The van sped up the on ramp, seamlessly merging into the busy night-time traffic like an expert seamstress threading a needle.

Sugar collapsed on the floor beside me like a sack of potatoes. "I didn't think we were going to make it back there."

I nodded, too tired to speak.

"But we made it—thanks to your quick thinking."

I laughed, genuinely amused at the prospect of me doing anything quickly with my mind. "Yeah. Right."

"Uh, guys?" Blitz said. "I hate to break it to you, but we're not out of the woods yet."

"What happened?"

"Remember that chopper? Well, I guess I didn't shake him after all. He's still on our tail."

"Where?"

"Right fragging behind us. And he's gaining quick!"

Sugar and I moved to the back of the van, gazing through the rear window. Sure enough, the blue and white chopper was racing along above the eight-lane highway right behind us. Blitz was right. It was quickly gaining."

"Fraggitall!" Sugar swore.

"They're targeting us," Blitz warned. "Grab a hold of the 'oh-shit' handles, 'cos I'm about to try something.

I braced myself against the walls of the van as Blitz threw the van into evasive maneuvers, bobbing and weaving through traffic like a professional daredevil. I watched as a rotary machine gun deployed from the chin of the chopper and began to churn out rounds. They sparked off of the pavement behind us, and Blitz cut the wheel hard, dodging in behind a Nissan Jackrabbit that was poking along in the lane next to us. The bullets meant for our vehicle struck the Jackrabbit instead, shredding the rear tires and sending the small electric car skidding out of control.

"Don't worry," I said to the others. "I invested some money into run-flat tires and armor plating on this bad boy." I rapped the armored walls. "That should give us some protection."

Just then the back window shattered as a burst of lead from the pursuing chopper found its mark. I reacted instinctively, hitting the floor as several rounds blasted through the van's armored hide, making Swiss cheese of the armored plates as if it they were nothing but cardboard. .

"Unless they have armor piercing bullets," Rei growled over the whine of the engine.

I decided to ignore the comment and shouted to Blitz, "Lose this fragger, will you?"

"I'm trying P, I'm trying. The next exit isn't for another mile, and until I get there we're sitting ducks. I don't think I can evade him for that long."

Again Blitz yanked the steering wheel to the side. He cut in behind an automated cargo hauler, using the big truck for cover as rounds from the Ayanami helicopter slammed into the trailer. The vehicle's automated dog brain, aided by the Seattle Grid-Guide system, didn't even register the impact and kept on trucking, giving Blitz a moment's reprieve from the chopper's withering fire.

"You'd think Lone Star would have started to get a little ticked by now," Rei muttered.

"Yeah, well they may have, but we're going to be toast in a minute and that chopper is going to be long gone if we don't do something soon," said Blitz. "Those glorified rent-a-cops aren't going to be able to do a damn thing if we're a grease stain on the side of the road. We've got to do something, and quick."

He was right. I thought quickly, looking around at the jumble of gear and bodies strewn about the van's interior. "Blitz, are you sure that you left all of our gear in here? I mean all of it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. What's that got to do with anything?"

I didn't answer as I tore through the weapons, gadgets, and crates of ammo piled up to the side of the vehicle. After a few seconds of desperate searching, I finally found what I was looking for. I grabbed hold of the rocket launcher's matte green barrel and pulled it out.

"What are you planning to do with that?" Blitz asked incredulously.

"What do you think?" I shot back.

"You'll never hit. With the way I'm moving and the way that thing is shooting, you wouldn't get within ten meters of it. Plus, the back-blast of that thing could fry us all."

"Then you're just going to have to slow down while I line up the shot."

"No way! If I stay in one place, that thing is going to blow us all to hell."

"Well if we keep going the way we are, he's going to blow us all to hell anyway."

A muffled _boom_ split the night air. I glanced out of one of the windows to see the truck beside us wreathed in flames. The still-moving vehicle began to skew to the side, forcing Blitz to swerve away and pick up speed down the highway.

"If you've got a better idea, I'd like to hear it!" I shouted back at him.

"Fine!" he growled, jerking the steering wheel hard as another blast of armor-piercing rounds struck the pavement right beside us.

I hefted the launcher to my shoulder and used the barrel to clear away the rest of the broken glass from the back window. Then I got to one knee—which was a difficult feat given how Blitz was still swerving back and forth—and braced the launcher's muzzle where the glass used to be. I flipped out the targeting reticule on the weapon, focusing into the eye piece as I tried to line up my shot.

"Steady," I warned. "Steady."

"I'm fragging steady, okay? Just take the damn shot!"

"Okay, okay!" I took a deep breath as the crosshairs settled over the speeding helicopter, whispering a silent prayer to whatever spirits that might have been listening. Then I pulled the trigger.

The rocket flared, sending a backwash of white-hot fire blazing backward at the back of Blitz's chair. The rocket leapt from the muzzle like a shooting star, corkscrewing upward into the night air toward the oncoming helicopter. At first I thought it was going to sail high, but the chopper pilot made a fatal error—he zigged when he should have zagged. He tried to pull up and avoid the rocket, but he was too late. The warhead struck the helicopter's whirling rotor blades in a savage explosion that shattered the entire rotor assembly, sending bits of debris flying in every direction. The helicopter went into a flat spin and dropped like a rock. When it impacted on the roadway below, something ruptured in the huge craft, and fire blew outward from its cockpit and side doors, blossoming upward in a huge tongue of fire that licked at the night sky like a slavering wolf.

A cheer went up in the van, and I felt Sugar wrap her arms around me. She bent my head down toward her and pressed her lips against mine in a kiss. "You did it!"

But I didn't share the enthusiasm. My body hurt too much. The still-smoking rocket canister dropped from my hands, and I sagged to the floor under the weight of my ecstatic woman. It was as if my body had suddenly remembered all of the injuries it had sustained that night and every night before. As the wind whipped through the bullet holes and shattered windows, I heard none of it. I didn't even feel any of it. The only things I could feel were the pounding of my own heart and the bruises of my battered body

I started to close my eyes, but Sugar shook me awake. "Peaches. Blitz wants to know where we go now."

It took my brain a moment to register the thought, but I immediately knew. "I know the perfect place," I said with a weary smile. "Michelson will never think of looking for us there."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

I heard the maglock hum slightly as the code from my credstick disengaged its hold on the door. Slowly—almost hesitantly—I turned the knob, easing the door open. A square of light fell upon the apartment's darkened foyer, illuminating the brass shell casings that danced and skittered across the floor with the door's passage, moving for the first time since this whole mess had started five days ago. I took a step into the foyer, plaster and shells crunching under my booted foot. And then the smell hit me. It smelled like the combination of rotting eggs, methane, and body odor. It was a smell I'd gotten my fill of in the past few days—the smell of death.

Blitz and Sugar stepped in after me, supporting Diana's limp body between them. Blitz wrinkled his nose. "God, what is that smell?"

"We left a little mess behind before we moved out. Didn't really have time to clean up," I answered as I made my way into the living room.

The living room was largely as we had left it. Bullets and other debris littered the floor, and blood had dried in a large pool where it spread out from the body that lay before the doorway into the kitchen. I was happy to see that the apartment's ventilation filtration system had done its job—at least part of it. It still stank to high heaven, but at least the body wasn't alive with maggots as it would have been on the streets outside.

Blitz's face quirked into an unreadable expression. "So, I guess that's the guy that tried to geek you?"

"Yeah. There's another one in the kitchen. Watch your step." I sidestepped the crusted brown stain around the body, and peered into the kitchen. The other corpse was just as dead as we had left it. I looked back to the others. "It doesn't look like anything has been disturbed. We should be safe here. In the mean-time, what do we do to help her?" I nodded to Diana.

Rei shrugged. "I don't think anything we can do can heal her. Her body isn't suffering from anything medicine can cure. I guess the best way I can explain it is to say that her spirit is . . . weary. It needs time to recharge."

"How'd you get to be such a fragging expert?" Sugar grumbled.

Rei shot her a look. "I started college in pre-med."

"I think we've got some stimulant patches back in the bedroom," I offered. "Would that help?"

Rei opened her mouth to respond, but Blitz cut her off. "No, Di told me those things do more harm than good. Something about the magic and the drugs just doesn't mix."

I sighed. "Okay, well I suppose the best place for her would be the master bedroom." I looked to Sugar to gauge her reaction.

She gave me an accepting nod and with Blitz's help began to maneuver Diana down the hallway, leaving Rei and me alone in the deathly still room.

For a moment we just looked at each other—like a pair of guard dogs suddenly unchained from their posts and told to fend for themselves. We were unsure of what to do or say next, how to dam the floodwaters we were already wading through waist deep. I broke the silence first.

"Well, I guess the first thing to do is get rid of the meat bags."

Rei just nodded mutely, watching the body as if the cadaver would rise from the dead if her eyes ever left it.

I went to the hall closet and took out an armload of blankets, hauling them back into the living room where Rei still had her eyes riveted on Mantis's corpse. "Are you okay?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. I mean, well, yeah." She gave a hacking cough, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "It's just I've never seen a dead body before—at least not this close, not this long." She tore her gaze away from the body and looked at me. "I guess you're used to this kind of stuff, huh?"

Her question caught me off guard. When I thought about it, she was right. I had grown callous to death. Only in retrospect did I feel the slightest twinge of guilt. Over the years I had clawed, stabbed, and shot my way through anyone who stood in my path. I thought I'd left that life behind three years ago, but when Michelson's goons busted in, three years of peaceful living couldn't erase what I was deep down inside. I was a killer.

That simple realization made my stomach turn. Those around me had always recognized that fact about me, but I had been blind to it for the largest part of my life. I forced those thoughts aside, afraid of the implications fraught within them. Swallowing hard, I looked up at Rei, giving her the most frank and honest answer I could.

"Yeah."

I cleared my throat suddenly. "Okay, lend me a hand here," I said, changing the subject to hide my own discomfort.

Rei and I knelt by Mantis's remains, and I lay one of the blankets to the side where we could roll her body into it. As I did so, I caught sight of the dead razor-girl's face, a bloated mask of blood and metal. Upon seeing her scarred visage, I felt a twinge of guilt—not for the bloated woman that lay before me, but for the other people that had died, who had just been doing their jobs and got caught up in this whole mess.

I looked up at Rei. "I'm sorry."

Her expression was blank. "Why?"

"Because of all of this—all of this that happened. Because all I managed to do was frag things up even more. Because of your people, your men. They died because of me. Because I couldn't see the truth."

"Peaches, they were trying to kill you—to kill all of us. I wouldn't have expected anything else."

I shook my head. "I don't mean them. I mean the people back in the factory, those people that were just trying to stick by you."

Her face softened. "I appreciate that. I really do, but . . . those men weren't Ayanami employees."

"They weren't?"

She shook her head. "Most of them were just muscle I hired off the street for protection. They were just people like—" She stopped mid-sentence, with an uncomfortable look on her face. But I knew what she was going to say. It was the same thought I was thinking. _People like you_.

That comment, even if it was unsaid, forced me to see the invisible line I had been walking for so long. At any time in my life I could have been among the dead, just another gutter punk cast aside like the daily garbage. I had survived up until this point. But I had been lucky. Sugar had been right before. My bullheaded pursuit of the truth had put us all in jeopardy. We came close to dieing that night, Diana most of all. Rei's words, though she didn't dare speak them aloud, made me realize that we might yet end up in the grave alongside them before I had a chance to see this through.

Rei forced herself to continue, interrupting my thoughts. "The only company man was my bodyguard Marcus." She forced a smile. "He was loyal to the last. He took his oath to protect me seriously."

"That kinda thing is rare these days."

She coughed again. "Loyalty?"

"Yeah. In this day and age, everyone is just trying to get ahead, and they'll do anything they can to get what they want. But none of the cars, or girls, or whatever else makes a drek's worth of difference. If a man doesn't keep his word, he really doesn't have anything at all." I sighed. "After you're dead and gone, none of that stuff really matters. The only thing that matters is how the people you left behind will remember you." I gave a humorless laugh, indicating the corpse lying before us. "She could tell you that."

Rei didn't seem to get the joke. It was a bad one anyway. She just looked down at the razorgirl's body.

"Rei?"

She looked up at me. "Yeah?"

"We're going to set this right. I don't know how quite yet, but we're going to. I promise."

She gave me a sad sort of smile. "Thanks."

I cleared my throat and changed the subject. "Okay, help me out with this, will you?"

Together we rolled up the body into a pair of blankets. By that time, Blitz had returned from the bedroom. He looked at us curiously as we finished, but just shrugged.

"Sugar decided to lie down too. All this stuff has kinda taken it out of her."

I nodded, about to say something when suddenly Rei gave a hacking cough. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. I just have this condition. Too much physical activity brings it out. It's been acting up since we escaped."

"The cystic fibrosis?"

She looked mildly surprised. "Yeah. That's why this whole thing started." She coughed again, this time more mildly. "You see—"

I cut her off with an upraised hand. "We know the whole story. That's how we tracked you down."

"Oh," she said, lowering her almond-shaped eyes.

I motioned to Blitz. "Help me with this."

He grabbed one side of the tightly bundled body and gave me a sigh of disgust. "Damn P, this slitch fragging stinks."

"No shit," I grunted as we hefted her off the ground.

"Yeah, we can be thankful for that." He grinned at his own joke. "So where are we going with this thing?"

"Trash chute."

"Trash chute?"

"Yeah. It goes right to the incinerator. No one will notice them."

We managed to maneuver the body into the hallway and dumped it down the chute. Lucky for us, none of my neighbors were in evidence, so we hurried back into the apartment to take care of the other body before any our luck ran out.

I stepped over the body in the kitchen, taking the same care with it as I had the other. I lay a blanket by his side, preparing to roll him up into it when I caught sight of his face. Truthfully, it wasn't his youthful countenance that piqued my interest. It was the green nub of a mohawk down the center of his scalp—a color green that I had seen before. At first I couldn't place it, so Blitz and I went through the arduous task of bundling him up and dumping him down the trash chute.

Once we were back in the apartment, both he and Rei collapsed onto the couch. I, however, remained standing. Something still didn't feel right. I had this inkling in the back of my head like I was missing something. But then it hit me. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before.

"C'mon Blitz," I said, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him toward the door. "We're going for a ride."

He frowned. "In what? The van is toast. Do you know how many bullet holes are in that thing? It's like riding in a whicker box for frag's sake."

"Then we'll get a cab."

"What about Rei?"

"She's staying here."

This time it was Rei protesting. "No, I'm going with you."

"No, you're staying right here," I said as I headed for the door. "You have to hold down the fort."

"But—"

"Just do it, okay?" I almost yelled, whirling around to face her. "You're not going. We can handle this just the two of us."

She gave me a glare that would have shattered a mirror.

I ignored it in my hurry to get out the door, pulling Blitz after me.

"Where are we even going?" he asked as the door closed behind us.

I turned and looked back at him. "How do you unravel a ball of yarn?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question."

"Well, you find the loose end and unspool it from there."

"Exactly. And if I'm right, Michelson and his boys have left us a loose end to work with. All we have to do is grab a hold of it and give it a good shake. Now come on. We've got to find a cab."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The autocab dropped us off on the edge of Touristville, the safest neighborhood in Redmond and the only one that most corporations would venture into without a full riot squad. Even at six in the morning, the place was a glittering paradox, walking the line between absolute squalor and plastic glitz. The place was filled with clubs, bars, and other establishments trying to cash in off of the district's "edginess." Most of the people on the street were corp kids on their way home from a night of "slumming" in the clubs. As we got deeper into the barrens, however, the crowds changed from thug wannabes to the real deal. Hungry-eyed squatters watched us as we passed, but they were smart enough not to mess with two obviously-cybered individuals like us. It was a good thing too, because my body hurt with every laborious step. It felt like an elephant had been tap dancing on my chest and legs for the past hour, but I wasn't stopping. I couldn't. My mind was awash with so many thoughts, and all I could do was urge my legs to keep up.

After about twenty minutes of walking, we reached our destination: Buena Vista Apartments. Two gangers sat on the front steps. One of them I had seen before. It was my old friend Bullnose. The left side of his face and both his arms showed heavy scarring, like some street doc had slapped some synth-skin on his roadrash and sent him home. As soon as he saw me, he was on his feet, shaking like someone had hooked a car battery to his nipples.

"What the frag are you doing here?" he stammered, reaching back into his waist band. The Manhunter pistol was in his hand quicker than I had expected and pointed directly at me.

I raised my hands to show him I didn't have any weapons. "Whoa, hold on a second. I came here to talk."

"Shut the frag up, Trog," he snarled, stalking forward to shove the gun in my face. "I didn't say you could talk." Actually he did, but I didn't feel it would be wise to tell him at that point.

I caught a glance from Blitz. "You sure about this, P?"

Bullnose shifted his aim to the rigger. "You shut up too, before I vent your grey matter out the back of your head." The gun obviously made him feel like more of a man, but his hand still wavered like a nervous kid.

"Before you go 'venting' everyone's brains all over the street, you might want to listen to what I have to say," I said as calmly as I could.

The gun was back in my face again. "And why should I listen to you?" he growled. "You were the one that slotted up my face. I owe you one."

"I have an offer for your boss." I glanced over to the other ganger where he still sat on the stoop. "I'd hate for your boy over there to tell him that you killed me when I could have made him a rich man. What's his name again?"

"Viridian," said the other ganger from the steps.

"Stay out of this," Bullnose grunted. "This tusker is mine."

"Viridian would wanna know…" the other started.

"I don't fragging care!" he shouted.

"Hey, if you wanna explain this drek to Viridian, then go ahead and blast the fools. But I'm not gonna be the one to do it."

Bullnose grimaced at me for a moment as if mulling over the decision. "Fine." He lowered the gun but didn't put it away. "But if you start any drek, your ass is mine."

The little pup was biting off more than he could chew, and I knew it—I did, but he didn't. For now I decided not to correct him and just smiled politely.

The other ganger got down off the stoop and patted us down for weapons. He took my Warhawk and Blitz's machine pistol, then turned and led us down the street, Bullnose bringing up the rear. We walked a short distance and then cut down an alley, finally stopping before the side door of what looked to be a squat apartment building.

As we entered I could hear the sounds of thrash metal music emanating from somewhere down the hallway. Bullnose's friend led us down the corridor, the music getting ever louder. Finally we passed what used to be a lobby where several razor-headed kids, mostly orks and humans, lounged around on worn-out sofas listening to the music coming out of a portable player. They gave us leery looks as we passed, especially when they saw the gun at my back, but they didn't move from their seats. Soon we stopped in front of another doorway. The ganger in front opened the door and ushered us through.

The inside of the room had been strung up with strips of clear vinyl with Christmas lights entwined among them, making the place like a meat packing plant on acid—like a miniature version of the famed glow city. He led us through a veil of plastic to where several couches and a trid had been set up in the middle of the room. The place was littered with empty beer cans, and at least half a dozen other gangers lounged about the room, watching an Urban Brawl game on the trid. Next to a female human on the central couch sat a large troll. He had a green Mohawk too, but his wasn't made of hair—it was made of metal spikes that had been implanted into his skull. His notched horns curled down toward his shoulders, and several piercings studded his face. He wore black leathers like the rest of his cronies, but his jacket was open, revealing a stained white T-shirt depicting a yellow smiley face with Xs instead of eyes.

"Who da frag is dis?" the troll rumbled as we stopped in front of him.

"Viridian, this is the guy that busted into the Vista a couple days ago," Bullnose said with obvious distaste. "He was the one who shot my bike out from under me."

"So why bring 'em to me? Take care of it yerself," the troll said, reaching over to grab a beer off the floor.

"He says he has an offer for you."

He took a draught off of his beer. "Alright, so talk." He shrugged. "If I like whut you have to say, I'll 'tink about not havin' your heads bashed in."

"Actually, I don't have an offer—at least, not yet."

"Why you—"

I cut off Bullnose as quickly as I could. "It was the only way I could get your lap dog to shut up for a minute and take the gun out of my face."

Bullnose reached back as if he was about to pistol whip me, but a word from Viridian stopped him.

"So why _did_ you come here?" he asked, looking back to me with an intrigued look on his knobby face.

I moved my hand toward my jacket pocket. "I have a picture here. I think you might know who he is."

I took out the rumpled Polaroid and handed it to one of the gangers. He in turn passed it to Viridian. The troll gave it a look and frowned.

"Yeah, 'dis is Bart. We haven't seen him for like a week. Whut happened to him?"

"I killed him."

A chorus of _chink-chinks_ resounded throughout the room as weapons materialized in the hands around me. Suddenly every eye and every gun was trained directly upon me. Viridian leapt to his feet, looming over me at his three meter height.

"Whut?" he roared.

"Hold on, let me explain!"

"Let you explain?" He stalked forward. "Let you explain how you flatlined one of my boys? No, I'm going to explain something to you—how I'm going to gut your ass!"

I raised my hands plaintively and took a shot in the dark. "Look, he was trying to get into some heavier work, right? Wetwork or, something like that? Am I right?"

That seemed to give the troll pause. "Yeah, so?"

So I told him. I told him everything—at least everything that had to do with him. I told him about the midnight invasion. I told him how the investigation that led us to Mantis and those apartments, and I told him how we had been dodging corporate bullets ever since.

"Why I came to you," I said as I concluded, "was because I want to set things right. My beef wasn't with you, and yours wasn't with me. But we got played, and some of your people got caught in the crossfire. We were just pawns in a corporate game. But I for one don't like being played, and I know you don't either. But to set this right, I need something from you."

"Yeah, whut's 'dat?" he asked distrustfully.

"Two things. I need to know who asked you to guard Mantis's apartment, and who hired your boy for the hit."

"How do we know we can even trust him?" Bullnose interjected. "He's a fragging runner. He doesn't give a slot about us."

I ignored Bullnose, looking directly at Viridian. "I just want to make things right. Michelson thinks I'm just going to dance to his tune like a trained monkey, but I'm not. I'm going to make that bastard pay for what he did to me—what he did to us. But to do that, I need your help. He was counting on us not figuring it out because we would never think of working together—but that's where he underestimated us. We're smarter than he thinks, and together we can bring his ass down to our level."

The troll was silent for a long few moments.

"Okay. I believe you."

"What?" Bullnose shrieked.

I smiled. "Thank you."

Bullnose was about to protest again, but Viridian silenced him with a glare. "But first 'ting's first. 'Dat apartment didn't belong to Mantis or whutever her name was."

"It didn't?"

He shook his head. "Nah. Nobody lives there. Some slag just keeps it fixed up as a bolt hole."

"Who's that?"

"Da answer to dat is da same answer as your udder two questions: a fixer dey call Jesus."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Blitz and I hit the street at a brisk walk, anxious to put some distance between us and the flop house before the Razors changed their minds. At least, that's what Blitz wanted. I was too furious to be worried. The Warhawk was heavy against my side, like some interminable weight reminding me of my idiocy. Iwanted to snatch it out of its holster and unload at the next person I saw.

"So what does this mean?" Blitz asked.

I resisted the urge to shout the reply. "It means Jesus was in on it. He sent the hit men after us; he sent the Razors to guard that apartment. Remember how I wanted to know why he was the one supplying us with the gear we got from Michelson? It was because the two of them were in on it the whole time! He and Michelson have been playing us from the beginning."

"What do we do now?"

"We find a cab," I said through clenched teeth.

"To go back and tell the others?" He said it with an air of fleeting hope, but the look in his eyes told me he already knew the answer.

"No," I said evenly. "They don't need to be involved in this."

"Shouldn't we at least tell them where we're going?"

"If we don't move fast, word might get to Jesus. Diana and Sugar are down for now. We can't afford to wait for them to get healthy."

Blitz didn't say anything. He knew there was no reasoning with me. Instead he just nodded complacently and followed me as I headed down the street in search of transportation.

I knew I was being stupid. I knew, but I didn't care. The only thing I could think of was wrapping my hands around that scrawny little gimp's throat and choking the life out of him. The realization that one of my closest contacts—the man upon whom I had leaned for nearly my entire life as a shadowrunner—had stabbed me in the back sent my mind into a whirlwind of mind-numbing fury. What made it worse was not that he had pulled the wool over my eyes, but that I had read the false clues written on the inside of the blindfold and believed them. In the process I slotted up things for Rei, creating an even bigger mess and playing right into their hands. The knowledge of that betrayal and the shame of my own inability to see the truth closed my mind to everything except one all-consuming thought: revenge. As quickly and as expediently as possible, I was going to get my vengeance, come hell or high water.

The cab door slammed behind me. Tires screeched on pavement as the automated cab sped away, leaving Blitz and me standing before the Downtown warehouse. The district hadn't changed since the day before; rusted and crumbling warehouses spread out around the derelict district, but there were a smattering of workers milling about on their way to their morning shifts. The wind picked up, bringing with it the smell of industry—smog, burnt plastic, and chemical waste.

Ignoring the permeating smell, I turned my attention toward the decrepit building before us. Unlike the rest of the area, the only movement around that derelict building was the wind-borne trash skittering along its sides. Its garage door loomed before us, a steel maw barring entrance into our own little Garden of Gethsemane.

"Come on," I said gruffly, motioning Blitz after me.

We headed across the street, stopping in front of the garage door. I gestured to the keypad. "You still remember?"

"Remember what?" he asked with a blank look.

I wanted to slap him. "The key code, numbnuts."

"Oh, yeah. 58823."

"Are you sure?"

He gave me a look. "Do you have another number in mind?"

I sighed and input the code. A moment later the garage door began to groan open. I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding and gave Blitz a nod of thanks. Then I drew the Warhawk and moved into the darkened warehouse.

Inside there were several stacks of crates—more than there had been when we were there before, but definitely not enough to fill up the cavernous chamber. The only light came from several miniscule holes in the building's roof, making the interior look like a night sky pierced by beams of artificial starlight.

After a quick look around, I made a bee-line for the side door. The hallway beyond was paneled with wood, but not the good stuff—it was that synth material, like poster board with a wood grain veneer. I made a motion for Blitz to be quiet and padded down the hallway.

We stopped in front of the first door we came across. I listened, dialing up my hearing amplification. I caught the sound of jingling metal and a strange hissing noise. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it meant that someone was definitely inside. I gestured to Blitz, indicating for him to be ready. He looked doubtful but nodded anyway, holding his machine pistol aloft. Slowly, I tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked. I twisted the knob and thrust my shoulder into the door. It flew open as I burst through with the Warhawk held before me like the sword of an avenging angel.

The room inside was some kind of workshop. Tools, metal parts, and circuitry hung on the walls and lay in large bins on the floor. A pair of work benches inhabited one corner, and on a stool in front of one of them sat an old friend—Boris. The dwarf had a spot welding torch in one had—the hissing sound I'd heard earlier. He froze for a second, splitting his surprised gaze between me and the pistol that lay on the workbench in front of him.

"Make a wrong move and you're dead," I growled.

He smiled nervously, raising his hands above his head. "Sure Peaches, null sheen."

I motioned Blitz forward. He moved across the room, snatching up the pistol and switching off the torch. He stepped back once he was finished, training his weapon on the Dwarf once again.

"Wh-what can I do for you?" Boris stammered, obviously scared shitless.

I stalked forward and grabbed him up by the scruff of his neck. His eyes widened as I shoved the barrel of my gun into his temple. "You can take me to that fragger, Jesus."

He laughed nervously. "What do you need him for?"

"Shut up," I roared, digging the Warhawk into his scalp. He yelped like a scared dog as I jerked him off of his stool and shoved him toward the door. "You just keep your mouth shut and take us to Jesus."

He opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it. Instead he nodded and motioned for us to follow him. I went after him out the door, finger still poised on the trigger in case he tried any funny stuff. Fortunately, he wasn't as stupid as I thought. He led us straight down to the door at the end of the hall.

He knocked. "Jesus?"

It was a moment before he responded. "What?" He sounded annoyed.

"Someone's here to see you."

"Tell them to come back later. I'm busy."

"You might want to talk to them. It's really—"

I was tired of the lip service. Before Boris could finish his sentence, I had planted my foot into the door's wooden face.

The lock splintered and the door swung open. Inside, Jesus sat behind a large synth-wood desk while another two chairs lay before it. A suit-clad man with a shell of plastic blonde hair inhabited one of them. The other was empty. I thought I recognized the suit, but in the state of rage I was in, I wasn't interested in puzzling it out.

Jesus plastered an oily smile on his face, fixing his dark reflective gaze upon me. "Peaches," he said in that pseudo-mystical tone, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

His little routine wasn't going to work on me today. I looked to where Blondie was still sitting. "Get up and get out. This doesn't concern you."

He paused a moment as if considering the situation. Then he rose form his chair, nodding politely to Jesus before slipping out the door. Blitz closed it behind him.

"Alright, you bastard," I said, turning to face Jesus. I wanted to say something profound, something to voice all the anger and turmoil I felt deep within my soul. But I was too angry. My body was so tense and my emotions so roiling, that the words wouldn't come out. Instead, I said the only thing that would come to mind.

"What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry Peaches, I've no idea what you're talking about." He reached out toward the small computer on his desk as if he were about to simply dismiss me and go back to work, but he wasn't going to get rid of me that easily.

I grabbed the edge of the desk and heaved, flinging the furniture halfway across the room in a flurry of paper and electronics. "No!" I roared. "You know, you sorry asshole. You know! You were in with Michelson all along. You set us up!"

The smile didn't leave his face.

"Blitz," I barked, "look at his computer."

The young rigger made as he stooped to pick up the keyboard-sized unit off the floor. "As long as you didn't break the damn thing," he mumbled, sitting down on one of the chairs before he booted up the computer and began typing out commands. "What am I looking for?"

"Anything that connects him to Ayanami."

"I—"

I whirled on Boris before he could complete the thought. "You sit down and shut up, halfer." I glanced at Jesus. "That goes for you too."

Jesus chuckled, unphased by my threat. "I'm afraid you're going to find a lot of Ayanami material in there. I've been doing business with the company for years."

"Not another word from you," I said, gesturing at him with the gun. "Just shut your face."

"Uh, Peaches?" said Blitz tentatively.

"What?" I asked angrily.

"You might want to look at this." He turned the computer's roll-out screen around to face me. The color drained from my face as I realized that it was the Ayanami memo that had started it all.

"When did he get it?" I asked.

Blitz turned the screen back around and typed out a few more commands. "It wasn't transferred onto the computer… it… it looks like it was drafted here."

I knew whatever we found, it was going to be bad, but I couldn't fathom how bad it truly was. That knot of anxiety that had been twisting and fermenting in the pit of my stomach ever since we left the Barrens suddenly came unraveled in a fit of rage. I whirled on Jesus. "You fragging bastard!"

The fixer spread his hands plaintively. "Sorry Peaches. Don't take it personally."

"Take it personally? You asshole, I _trusted_ you. How many years have I been working with you? Eight? Nine? And you go and stab me in the back like that?"

"You have to understand, Peaches, you were out of the game. You weren't contributing anything anymore. When Michelson came to me with his little idea, I didn't have any reason to turn him down."

"You betrayed me," I said through clenched teeth.

"Don't take it personally," he said with that infuriating smile. "It was just biz."

"Just biz?" I repeated, my voice rising to a roar.

He just smiled.

That's when I lost it. At that moment—staring down at that mocking smile—I simply snapped. With a feral yell, I leapt forward, bodily throwing myself into the man before me. He was tougher and more sinewy than I would have expected, but I didn't think about it at the time. I was single-mindedly focused on bringing as much pain to that little cripple as he had brought to me—to show him that this was more than "just biz." I brought the butt of my pistol down, smiling with maniacal satisfaction as the weapon cracked off of his skull. His ever-present sunglasses fell away from his eyes, revealing the naked steel beneath for the first time. Black, pitiless metal stared out from where flesh and blood should have been, looking up at me emotionlessly even as the rest of that face was contorted in pain. But that just made me angrier—just another lie coming to light.

I screamed again, pistol falling from my grip as my hands went to his throat. I wanted to feel the life slowly drained out of his body, wanted to see the look on his face as he realized that it was me, the one person he thought would never be able to figure out his little plan, who would be the maker of his death.

Suddenly Blitz gurgled behind me. I twisted around to see him slumped in his chair, the door behind him open. In the doorway stood the blonde suite I had dismissed minutes before, his hand outstretched toward me. I suddenly realized where I'd seen him before. He was the spell-slinger Michelson brought with him that first night at the Red Tomato.

I turned, trying to bring my cyber pistol around toward him, but I was too late. He uttered a word of power and extended his hand toward me.

Suddenly it felt like someone had shoved his hands through my eye sockets and into my brain. My vision blanked out as I vainly struggled against the magic, but it was all for naught. The last thing I remembered was thinking to myself, _This is one hell of a way to die_.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

I awoke into a realm of pain. The rest of the world and its sensations were in a haze, but the pain was agonizingly clear. My ears rang like a church house bell, and my head throbbed as if there was a tiny gnome in there pounding at the inside of my skull with a sledge hammer. I tried to say something, to tell the little fragger to slot off, but all that came out was a hoarse croak.

There was a voice somewhere nearby. "He's coming around."

Something touched my neck. A few seconds later, the little bastard inside my head began to lose steam and my senses gradually began to clear.

"The stimulant patch should have taken effect. He'll be cognizant in a few seconds."

In my addled state, I briefly wondered what cogni-whatever meant. Finally I decided to open my eyes and see who that was talking. As I cracked my eyelids, I caught sight of a Hispanic man with dark sunglasses standing in front of me next to a blonde man in a suit.

"Who…" The rest of the words wouldn't come out.

The one in the sunglasses knew what I meant, though. He smiled, but for some reason I didn't think it was sincere. "I'm Jesus. Don't you remember me after all we've been through?"

Jesus? Was I dead after all? I glanced around the bare room I found myself sitting in. "I thought Heaven would be prettier."

The smile dissolved from his face. And then he slapped me. My face stung, and I would have fallen out of my seat if I hadn't been tied to it. The combined realization sobered me up real quick.

"Ow," I mumbled through the blood oozing from my split lip.

"Yeah, 'ow.' After what you did to me, I figure I owe you one."

I suddenly noticed the large welt on his temple, remembering where it had come from and why I put it there. But more than that, I noticed the gun in his hand—my gun.

He held it aloft, watching as its chrome surface glinted in the bare florescent light. "With this bullet, I thee wed," he intoned. "Catchy. I wonder, do you even know what it means?" He laughed at some unspoken joke. "You know, some people in my position might 'wed' you so to speak to pay you back in full." He pointed the gun at me, cocking the hammer with an ominous _click_. "You know, for trying to kill me and all. It would be rather poetic justice to be killed with your own gun, don't you think?"

He smiled, but I knew that under those glasses his eyes weren't smiling at all. They were as cold as ebony and just as expressionless.

Finally he laughed and lowered the weapon. "Lucky for you, I don't hold grudges. Like I told you before, it's just business. You're worth far more to us alive."

"Speaking of business," said Blondie for the first time, "Let's get down to it."

Jesus nodded. "Yes, by all means." He turned to me. "We're going to need your help in finding the rest of your merry little band."

"Frag that. I won't tell you a damn thing." I tried to spit at him, but all I managed to do was dribble down my chin.

He gave me a patronizing look. "Poor boy, you actually think you have a choice in the matter."

When I didn't seem to get it, Blondie gave me a sad smile—the kind a veterinarian gives a dying dog just before he jams the needle in. Then he advanced, arms stretching out toward my face.

I tried to resist, straining against my bonds like a drug-crazed junkie. It was no good, though, and Blondie latched onto either side of my head, mumbling words under his breath. I tried to pull away, but his fingers were like a steel vise on my skull. It felt like they were digging through my scalp and into my brain, rifling through the contents of my memory like someone digging through a filing cabinet. I fought. God knows I did, but no matter how hard I struggled to push that presence out of my mind, it pushed back harder. Finally I gave up, unable to prevent the inevitable. A few seconds later, it was over. Blondie released my head and stood up. I sagged forward, weary beyond description.

Blondie allowed himself a tight smile. "I know where they are."

"Good," Jesus replied. "Once we get rid of this one and his little friend, we'll pay them a visit." He turned back to me, pulling an adhesive patch from his pocket. I tried to resist, but it was no use. He pressed it to the side of my neck, still smiling all the while. In a matter of seconds, my skin had soaked up the drugs like a sponge, and I found myself spiraling back downward into darkness.

I awoke again. Pain seemed to have become my wakeup call of choice. It was the same as before, except the gnome had changed positions, leaving my head in favor of my wrist. He was up there, sawing away at my meat hand with glee, like some unwanted extension of my psyche trying to sever itself from its creator. I tried to move, to swat the little bugger away, but I could hardly flinch. My arms felt like they were being held down by some interminable weight. I cracked an eye open, glancing upward to try and locate the sonuvabitch. If I couldn't be rid of him, I at least wanted to see what my tormentor looked like. But he wasn't there. Instead there was a plastic tie that had been looped around my hands and snagged on what looked to be an old fashioned meat hook. The bonds dug into my meat wrist so deeply that a small trickle of blood had already begun to dribble down my forearm.

I suddenly came to the realization that we were moving. The sound of traffic around me and the slight sensation of swaying told me that we were in some sort of moving vehicle. It also told me that I was suspended from the ceiling; my feet couldn't touch the ground. I groaned as we hit a bump, my body swaying as the tie dug in deeper.

"P, are you awake?" a familiar voice asked from behind me.

"Blitz, is that you?" I managed to say despite a severe case of cotton mouth. I tried to twist around to look at him, but with the way I was hanging I couldn't see.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Where are we?"

"In an old meat wagon of some sort."

My stomach lurched. "Organ leggers?"

With all the medical advances of the last few decades, organ replacement surgery in the year 2059 was little more complicated than outpatient surgery. As a result, a thriving illegal trade had cropped up around the business. Many a street rat had gone missing only to have their organs turn up in the body of someone else.

"No," he said, assuaging my fears. "I don't think so. When they loaded us up, they said something about holding us at Ayanami."

"Oh."

"But y'know, you'd think they could come up with a better way to haul us around."

"I think it has something to do with the pain," I said, trying to hold the emotion back from my voice. "They want to break us down."

"Well, it's working," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Hey!" a voice called out from the front of the vehicle. "Shut up back there!"

We fell silent, but not because of that. I was just too embarrassed to say anything more. My impatience had gotten us into this. I had been so angry that I couldn't think straight. The thought of that betrayal, that duplicity, had sent my emotions spinning into a delirium of rage. It was no excuse, I knew. But that had been my problem ever since I started in the Shadows. I could never separate my emotions from the job. I had a tendency of making the impersonal personal. Now, when the whole job was personal, I needed that detachment more than anything, but it just wasn't something I had in me. And because of that, I had doomed the people that put their trust in me.

"Hey P?" Blitz called softly

"Yeah?" I asked, keeping my voice lower this time.

"I think I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"The inscription on your gun. 'With this bullet, I thee wed.'"

I shook my head at the pure randomness of it all. "Why?"

"You told me before that if I came up with a good enough answer, you'd tell me what it meant."

"So?"

"So I think I figured it out."

I sighed and decided to humor him. "Okay, shoot."

"I think I heard it in a movie. See, they say that when you die, all of the people you killed in your lifetime become your slaves in the afterlife. So, it's like marrying yourself to someone with a bullet because they'll be attached to you forever after you're dead."

I was silent.

"So am I right?"

"No."

"Well what's it mean, then?"

I sighed. "Blitz, sometimes things don't really have a meaning. It's all just smoke and mirrors to hide the truth."

"And that is?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I was cut off as the van slammed into something. Tires squealed and metal screeched as we came to an abrupt halt, our bodies swaying violently back and forth. A cacophony arose as the unseen motorists around us lay on their horns. Then the sound of gunfire punctuated the noise, and the din of horns was replaced by a chorus of frightened screams.

The sound of gunfire grew closer. People were running. I heard sirens in the distance. Bullets slammed into the front of the vehicle. There were gurgling screams and what sounded like a large fish flopping around in the cab. Then a gunshot sounded at the back of the van, blasting the rear door's locking mechanism. The door swung open, and a figure stepped up into the square of daylight.

I was so surprised, I couldn't respond. But Blitz could.

"Sugar!" he exclaimed.

She moved forward, stowing her Uzi and drawing a knife as she went. She had to climb up the side of the van to reach my hands, but she managed to cut away the bonds. I hit the ground in a heap, my numb legs tingling with the pain of a thousand pins and needles. I picked myself up as she began cutting down Blitz.

"How'd you find us?" I stammered, massaging my bleeding wrist.

"Rei followed you after you left the apartment. When you didn't come out of the warehouse, she figured things went badly and called me. We got here as soon as we could." Blitz flopped to the ground and she stooped, helping him to his feet. "We don't have time to chat. Lonestar will be here any minute. Come on." She tossed me the Uzi and drew a Predator pistol before heading out the back of the truck.

The bright daylight outside blinded me for a second before my cybereyes compensated. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that we were in central Seattle, towers of concrete and glass rising all around us in a man-made canyon. The busy city street was choked with traffic and fleeing pedestrians. Screams filled my ears, adding to a back beat of wailing sirens.

"You sprang us in the middle of fragging Downtown?" I shouted at Sugar.

"We didn't have a choice, thanks to your little maneuver. Quit bitching and come on!"

We headed out, our feet pounding the pavement as we raced along, threading our way through the gridlocked cars toward where our van waited for us at the front of the nearby intersection. Rei stood by the opened driver's side door, a pistol in her hands as she covered our escape. I spared a glance back at the meat wagon as we went, only to see that the front end was totally smashed in. Bullet holes permeated the front windshield and blood spattered the interior, two bodies slumped inside. Shaking my head, I turned away and raced after the others.

Sugar and Blitz had already reached the van when a Lonestar patrol screeched to a halt in the intersection in front of us. I raised the submachine gun to my shoulder as an intercom blared, "Police! Give yourselves up!"

I wasn't about to give up yet. I clamped down on the trigger, concentrating on keeping the cops at bay rather than trying to kill them. The spray of bullets slammed into the front of the vehicle, punching through the hood to bounce around inside the engine cavity. The doors opened, and a pair of troopers started to pile out until another blast from the Uzi sent them scampering for cover. I let loose of another burst, shredding one of front tires before making a dash for the van.

The others were already inside the van as I clambered in and slammed the door closed. Rei sat at the driver's seat while Diana slumped in the passenger side. She had a glassy look in here eyes, and her head lolled backward against the window.

"Did it work?" she asked in a dreamy voice.

"Yeah," said Sugar. "The barrier spell worked like a charm." She patted Rei's shoulder. "Get us out of here before any more cops show up."

Rei didn't waste any time. She nodded and hit the gas, catapulting us down the road.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The seedy hotel room stank. It stank like a mixture of cat piss and smoke, but still it was better than where I had been just a few hours before. After the escape from the meat wagon, we had dashed around the city, trying to lose the cops we knew would be on our tails. Once we were satisfied that we'd lost all pursuit, we parked and Blitz worked at tweaking our transponder code so we wouldn't light up the grid when Lonestar put out an APB on us. After that we headed into the outlying suburbs, trying to find a place to lay low. We chose this particular hotel not for its amenities, but because it was a no-questions-asked, cash up front business. At the moment, all five of us sat in various places around the cramped room, hemmed in by peeling wall paper and ragged carpet. Various stuffer wrappers lay on one of the narrow the beds, and every one of us cradled a bottle of water or two, trying replenish our bodies after the exertion of the last few days.

I sat on the edge of the other bed, massaging my wrist. Rei had bandaged it as well as she could, and the painkillers we'd picked up at the nearby Stuffershack kept the discomfort to a minimum. I looked around at the others like a guilty child.

"Look guys… I don't know if I said this before, but I'm sorry. I really screwed things up."

"You're damn right you did," Sugar said, shooting me a hateful stare. "You nearly got yourself scragged, and the rest of us along with you. If Rei hadn't followed your ass, we would all be sitting inside of an Ayanami holding cell."

"I didn't think—"

"Exactly!" she said, standing up from her place on the floor. "You didn't think. You never think these things through. Since this whole drekstorm started, you haven't listened to a damn thing anyone else said. The only time anything got through that thick skull of yours was when we were being shot at."

"Lay off of him," Diana said sternly. She looked much better since the previous night's ordeal, standing by the door, her arms folded over her chest. "If I remember correctly, you were wrong about a few things too. Or do I have to remind you how you wanted to ditch me and Blitz when you first met us?"

A momentary look of surprise coalesced on her face before she managed to wipe it away. "That was different. We hadn't seen each other in three years. How could I have known you were trustworthy?"

"But you were wrong, and that's my point. The fact is that all of us have been wrong about pretty much everything in this mess. There's no use in berating him about it when we've all done things wrong. Yeah, he was _really_ wrong this time, but we're all alive in spite of it. We haven't been playing with a full deck of cards since this whole thing started. Michelson and Jesus have been keeping the aces in their pockets this whole time, and blaming one person isn't going to solve anything."

Blitz nodded. "Yeah, but now that we've found out what those two are holding, what are we going to do about it?"

"I promised Rei that I would make things right again," I said quietly, casting a sidelong glance at the executive where she sat in a chair next to the window. "That might not matter to the rest of you, but it sure as hell matters to me. It's a promise I intend to keep."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Sugar snapped.

"Well…what if we give him what he wants?"

"But, you just said—"

"I don't mean we actually do it. But we make him _think_ he's getting what he wants."

All I got in response were silent stares.

"Blitz, you know people who can repair the van, right? And you could get a few road spike strips?"

"Well, yeah. The spike strips shouldn't be a problem, and I could probably do most of the work on the van myself."

"And you still have the video recordings we took when we met Michelson the first time, right?

"Yeah, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"What exactly are you proposing," Sugar asked, seeming to read my mind, "that we draw Michelson out by putting up Rei as bait?"

"I don't like that idea so much," Rei muttered.

"Don't worry. You'll be safe, I promise."

"He'll have backup," she said uncertainly. "It won't be easy. He's not stupid enough to put himself at risk unless he's got a clear tactical advantage. You'll need help."

I smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while. "Don't worry. I've got some people in mind."

"Whut da frag are you doing back here?" Viridian rasped in his bass voice. "I 'tought I told you to slot off."

"I've got an offer for you." I paused, looking around the decrepit flop house at the rest of the assembled Razors. "All of you."

"'Dat's whut you said last time."

"Yeah, but this time it's for real."

The troll levered himself up off of his couch, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because my offer is to take down both Michelson and Jesus—the ones who have been playing us off of each other from the beginning."

"Whut do you need us for?" he asked distrustfully.

"I only have four people. Michelson has dozens. If we can draw him out, we'll need some help to level the playing field."

"'Dat's all fine and dandy, but whut's in it for us? My boys can't eat on sunshine and farts."

"Beyond the satisfaction of getting your revenge and kicking in a few heads in the process? Well, think about it. Ayanami is a small corporation, but it's still a corp. They'll be bringing with them corp vehicles, corp weapons, and corp gear. Whatever you can take from them is yours. I don't care about the 'ware. I just want to make those bastards pay."

He motioned the other gangers closer to him. They talked for what seemed like forever before the throng parted and they all turned their eyes back toward me. "Alright," said Viridian. "We'll do it. Whut do you want us to do?"

I allowed myself a smile and told him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The automatic glass doors glided silently open at my approach, admitting me into the corporate building's reception area. The lobby was decorated with expensive white tile and walls, accenting the pristine façade with navy blue couches around the foyer. A receptionist's desk stood against the right wall, while a hall stretched off toward the back and a bank of elevators stood to the left. The pair of security guards flanking the door stiffened as I passed. I could hear them shuffling nervously as I turned my back on them and headed for the receptionist's desk.

I could understand their fear. A character like me didn't belong in that immaculate environment. I had found a change of clothes since the morning's adventure, but I still wore the same beat-up armored jacket as before. It had seen its share of wear and tear over the years, and I'm sure it had one or two bullet holes somewhere in the back. My wrist was no longer bloody, but the fresh bandage stood out against my grayish skin like a racing stripe. I could hear the guards loosening the snaps on their holsters as I placed my hands on the counter. Suddenly I felt naked without the familiar weight of my Warhawk against my shoulder.

The receptionist looked up, brushing the blonde hair from her face. She squinted at me, detaching the cord from the datajack in her temple before fixing me with a polite—if somewhat strained—look.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked in an annoyingly cheerful voice.

"Yeah," I said, trying to keep up my mask of indifference, "I'm here to see Michelson."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, turning her head toward the computer screen in front of her.

"No."

"I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Michelson sees people on an appointment-only basis."

"He'll see me. I promise." I fixed her with a chrome-eyed stare, making it plain that I wasn't going away until I got what I wanted.

She sighed and bent her head toward the computer screen and began typing out commands. "May I have your name?"

"Peaches."

She quirked her head at the absurdity of the epithet, but input the name anyway. As soon as her fingers stopped typing, she froze, glancing up at me with a look of barely disguised fear in her eyes. Her hand snaked underneath the desk as her mouth tweaked upward in a smile. "Do you mind waiting a few moments?"

I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Yeah sure. Go ahead and hit the silent alarm." I grinned at her surprised reaction.

The sound of metal sliding along leather issued from behind me. I twisted around to see the guards at my back both pointing their pistols at me.

"Don't move," one warned.

I raised my hands innocently. "Null perspiration, boys."

It wasn't but a few seconds until I heard footsteps coming from the hallway at the back of the building. I looked back to see a phalanx of security personnel advancing toward me. At the center of the formation was a very familiar face—my old pal Blondie.

He chuckled as he approached. "Well, well, well. You were the last person I expected to see here. You must be stupider than I thought."

I flashed him a cocky grin. "I didn't think we got enough quality time together before. I figured I'd drop in for a visit."

The mirth went out of his face. He gestured to one of the sec-men. "Cuff him and take him to a holding cell."

One of his men advanced toward me, but I stopped him with an outstretched arm. "If I go anywhere but Michelson's office, Rei disappears, you never see her again, and all of this little adventure was for nothing." I locked gazes with Blondie, assuring him that I wasn't bluffing.

The sec-guards paused, looking back at him like confused retrievers.

His frown deepened as he thought it over. "Search him."

One of the goons produced a small wand and stepped forward, waving the device over my body. When he was finished, he stepped back. "He's clean—cybered up the ying-yang, but no weapons or ammunition."

"Follow me." Blondie turned and entered one of the open elevators against the wall. I followed, a pair of suit-clad guards flanking me on either side. One of them hit the button for the top floor, and the doors slid closed as the elevator lurched into motion.

Blondie lifted a slim phone to his ear. "I'm on my way up. He's coming with me." He paused to listen for a moment. "Yes sir, we've taken the proper precautions. Yes sir. Understood." He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket just as the elevator slowed to a halt. The doors slid open and he ushered me through.

This floor was a stark contrast to the pristine white lobby. Teak wood paneling lined the walls, and plush blue carpeting stretched out along the floor like a placid lake. We stepped out of the lift and made our way past the secretary's desk toward the large double doors set against the far wall. Blondie hardly spared the secretary a glance as he opened the doors and motioned me inside. I stepped past him into the room, and he came after me, closing the door behind him.

Michelson sat behind a large granite-topped desk. He wore a charcoal suite that nearly matched the shade of his dark goatee, and he already had a smug smile plastered onto his face. Despite all of his posturing, the thing that stood out most of all was the nameplate atop the desk that still read _Rei Ayanami_.

"You just couldn't wait to move in, could you?" I said with a smirk.

Michelson spread his arms plaintively. "Guilty as charged. This office is just so much more spacious than my own. Given the current situation, I thought it wouldn't hurt. Soon I'll be moving in here permanently, so I figured I might as well get used to it. But enough of that. Given what my chief of security, Mr. Harrison, here has told me," he said, gesturing to Blondie, "I can surmise that you've finally come to your senses."

"You could say that."

"So what can I do for you, Mr. Peaches? I trust you came here to do more than bluster. After your close call earlier today, I thought you would have been halfway around the world by now."

"I don't give up that easily. You should have known that by now—or was that little tidbit left out of my security file?" I spared Blondie—or Harrison, as Michelson had called him—a baleful glance.

Michelson chuckled. "As ferocious as a pit bull and just as dumb."

"That's right. And once I bite down, I don't let go."

Michelson wasn't laughing anymore. He recognized the threat for what it was. "So what exactly is it that you want?"

"I want to turn Rei over to you."

"Really now?"

"But I'm changing the terms of our original agreement. I want double the fee—two hundred thousand. I think my people and I deserve it for all the extra trouble you put us through."

His face darkened. "You want to talk about 'extra trouble?' You and your people are responsible for the destruction of a company helicopter and the deaths of four loyal Ayanami employees, not to mention the half a dozen others you put in the hospital."

"Heh, loyal. Just like you, right?"

My comment didn't help improve his mood any. "Regardless of semantics, it is _you_ that has caused _me_ quite a bit of 'extra trouble.'"

"Come off it. I know what you're after and it's worth a helluva lot more than two hundred large and a helicopter. If you have Rei, you can put her up as an offering to MCT and the Corporate Council. She gets convicted of industrial espionage, forfeits her shares of company stock, and then buy them up again they resell her stock on the open market to raise additional capital—no doubt at your urging. You'd have Ayanami right in your pocket. Starting to sound familiar?"

"I see you have been listening to Ms. Ayanami."

"But you know I'm right."

"Get to the point, please."

"You pay us the 200,000, and not only will we hand over Rei, but I will testify in her trial under the condition that I receive written confirmation of immunity from prosecution from everything involving and stemming from my time with Ayanami." I leaned back in my chair. "That, Mr. Michelson, is my point."

He smiled that shark's smile. "It's almost too good a deal to pass up."

"I know. It's especially tempting because you can turn back on it any time you want since, without a System Identification Number, I don't really have any legal rights."

The look on his face told me I'd anticipated his thoughts.

"That's why I've got insurance." I reached into my coat pocket. Harrison tensed for a moment until he saw me bring forth the personal secretary. The small device was about as large as my palm and had a small screen set into its face along with several buttons. I hit a few keys and set it on Michelson's desk. He leaned forward, peering at the image that popped up on the small screen. From the angle of an observer high up in a tree branch, it depicted a trio of forms sitting at a table in an open-air café. The time stamp read _October 2__nd_, _2056_.

"If you can't see, that's you sitting at that bench with me and Sugar. It shows that it was in fact _you_ who contracted us for the jobs against MCT, not her."

He looked up at me, mouth agape. "But, this is footage from five days ago."

I smiled thinly. "You'd be amazed at how easy it is to change a timestamp."

"It won't hold up in court," he said confidently, shoving the device back at me.

I shrugged and picked it up off of the desk. "Maybe not. But the court of public opinion has lower standards. If you don't play ball, we release the file to the media. And good luck trying to try your case when all your dirty laundry has already been aired to the public—no matter whether it's true or not. Y'see, lies work both ways. You can use them to get ahead, but eventually they always come back around and bite you in the ass. With all that taken into account, 200,000 seems like a small price to pay, given just how much is at stake."

He was silent for several moments, stroking his chin in thought. On the outside he was just as cool as ever, but on the inside I knew he was seething with anger at having been beaten at his own game.

I cleared my throat. "So do we have a deal?"

He lowered his hands and sighed. "Yes, we have a deal. You drive a hard bargain."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Where do you want to make the exchange?"

"Why not end this where it started? The Red Tomato, two days from now at 9 p.m. It's as good a place as any."

"That will be acceptable."

"Good," I said, standing and slipping the personal secretary back into my pocket. "The nuyen will be in certified credit, and I will require a notarized statement of immunity from prosecution in hard copy and electronic format."

"Of course."

I turned to leave with Blondie by my side but stopped and looked back at Michelson. "Oh, and one other thing. Bring Jesus along too. Tell him I'd like my gun back." I headed out the door, leaving Michelson to contemplate the new development in his little scheme.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

I hugged my arms around myself, trying to stave off the late November chill. My breath hung in the air like the menacing pall that had taken over my conscience. The air around me was cold, but the anger seething inside of me kept me warm. I sat at a central picnic table, Rei at my side, while a quartet of Razors sat at benches arrayed several meters behind us. The florescent light fixtures above us cast a bluish-white illumination over the gravel-paved café commons, creating a halo of light amid the dark wooded park around us. Except for the six of us, the Red Tomato was empty. The only customers, a couple of norms on a date, had picked up and hauled tail once we moved in. The clerk was now busy closing up shop. Even the squirrels that usually frolicked on the café's boundaries were noticeably absent. It was as if everyone could sense the air of nervous malice radiating off of our assembled group.

My ear-throat commlink buzzed for my attention on a private channel. I held my hand to the device attached to my neck. "Yeah?"

"Peaches." It was Sugar. "You got a minute?"

"Sure," I subvocalized. "Michelson shouldn't be here for another few minutes. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about this plan again."

"Okay."

"As you know, I'm hacked into the GridGuide system alright, but I can't do anything too overt or the system's Intrusion Countermeasures will be all over me. Plus, I'm not going to be able to stop all of those Lonestar calls. This is going to turn messy real quick."

I sighed. "Look, we already went over this. I know what I'm doing, and—"

"I don't mean that. I mean…" She trailed off as if searching for the right words. "I just wanted to tell you to be careful."

My previous indignation began to melt away. "Thanks," I said with genuine warmth, "I appreciate that."

"I love you," she said quietly. She hurried to explain before I could respond. "I know I don't say it very much, and I've been kind of a bitch lately, but I do. I love you." She said those three words louder this time, as if to affirm herself of the fact too. "Just promise me you'll get out of this alive."

I knew it wasn't a pledge that was in my power to keep, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. "I promise," I whispered.

I was about to say something else when Sugar interrupted, bringing the conversation to a close. "Damn, Michelson's motorcade just stopped outside the park. They're early. You better get your people ready."

"Understood." I moved to switch channels but paused. "Sugar?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too." Before she could say anything else, I clicked the comm. and closed the channel.

"What was that about?" Rei asked in a huskier voice than normal.

"Sugar says Michelson is on his way," I replied, pushing down the well of emotion that threatened to seep through into my voice.

She let her breath out in a rush. "You think he is going to keep his word?"

"Of course not. But neither are we."

"You got that right."

At that moment I caught sight of several warm bodies making their way along the forest path between the road and the café. "Here they come. Tell the Razors to stay frosty."

Rei turned to make a signal to the gangers while I contacted Blitz over the comm.

"Blitz, you got that surveillance drone in position?"

"Yeah, I can see their little convoy from here. He's got quite the entourage—two SUVs and a pair of Toyota Elites."

"What about personnel?"

"He left half of them with the vehicles. My guess is they're there for help in case things go south. It looks like he might be planning on keeping his side of the bargain."

I grunted noncommittally. "You watch them and tell me if they make a move. Got me?"

"I got you, P."

"Peaches?"

I looked down at Rei. "Yeah?"

"Whatever happens here tonight, just know that I'm behind you all the way. It's not necessarily been a fun trip, but there's no one I'd rather have along for the ride than you."

A slight smile crept onto my lips. "Ditto."

The sound of crunching gravel interrupted our conversation. I turned my attention to the group of corporate goons that had emerged from the woods and passed into the aura of halogen lighting. Michelson and his head of security were in the lead with Jesus and Boris just behind. Three security personnel, six in total, flanked the procession on either side. None of them wore anything denoting them as Ayanami employees, but every one of them had the hard look of loyal company men that had come ready for business. Most had on some kind of armored clothing, and even though I couldn't see any weaponry, I could be sure that they were all packing some kind of firepower.

Gravel crunched underfoot as Michelson drew close. He smiled predatorily. "Mr. Peaches. I'm glad to see you. I was afraid you might have had second thoughts. I'm glad your sense of reason won out after all." He switched his gaze to Rei. "Ms. Ayanami. A pleasure as always."

Rei's fixed him with a smoldering stare.

Michelson's smile never faltered as he slid into the seat across from me. Jesus and Boris likewise joined him, but everyone else remained standing.

"I hope you don't mind, but I brought along some chaperones." He gestured to the men and women arrayed behind him.

"I brought some company too," I said, jerking my thumb back at the Razors behind us. "Do you have our payment?"

"Straight to business then. Yes, I have it right here." He produced a silvery credstick and a chip case, sliding them across the table.

Rei picked up the credstick and slotted it in a reader she produced from the folds of her coat. She nodded to me, and I took my pocket secretary from out of my jacket, inserting the chip. After verifying the authenticity of the document, I tucked both the secretary and the credstick into my pocket, fixing Michelson with an expectant stare.

"The hard copy?"

"Yes, of course." He took an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it to me. "I trust everything is in order now?"

"Not yet." I switched my gaze to Jesus. "I think you have something that belongs to me."

He smiled. "What, no hello for your old friend?"

I glowered at him.

"Fine, fine. Don't throw a fit. Boris, give the man his gun."

The dwarf shifted, pulling the revolver out from where he had stashed it at the back of his waistband. He held the weapon out over the table, its chrome surface glinting in the harsh overhead light. My gaze lingered over the inscription on the barrel before I reverently reached out and took hold of the handle, taking possession once more. Hefting it experimentally, I found that it felt heavy. Initially I didn't think Jesus could have been that stupid, but I'd owned that pistol long enough to know the difference in weight. It was still loaded. My cybernetic Smartlink confirmed the suspicion.

Michelson cleared his throat. "Now, if you will relinquish Ms. Ayanami, we can conclude our business."

He motioned to his cronies, and Boris stood, moving around the table to take Rei by the arm. He jerked her to her feet and started to drag her back toward the road, but I didn't give him the chance.

The hammer on the Warhawk drew back with an ominous _snick_ as I surged to my feet, leveling the weapon at Michelson's surprised face.

"Not so fast."

Everyone froze, hands on their weapons.

"What is the meaning of this?" Michelson blustered. "I've upheld my end of the bargain."

"You think you can cross me and just brush me off with some cred and a kind word?" I snarled. "I don't want your damn money. You owe me more than that."

For a moment silence reigned as that pregnant statement echoed in my ears. Then Jesus laughed—a mocking laugh that seemed to resound throughout the park.

I abruptly shifted my aim toward him. "What are you laughing at? You're in this just as deep as he is."

"It's just funny, is all. You claim that this isn't about money, yet you pocket his credit so willingly. The hypocrisy is amusing."

"You're one to talk," I snarled back. "For eight years you pretended to be my friend, and then sold me out the moment you saw an opportunity."

"Your friend?" His voice took on a steely edge I didn't think him capable of. "You haven't gotten it yet, have you? I never was your 'friend.' The work we do is a business—a _business_, Peaches. There is no room for friends in the shadows. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Learn from your mistakes. Stick to the deal, and everyone goes home."

"No," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm not leaving until I'm repaid in full."

He just smiled again. "Be a good boy. Take the money and walk away."

I wasn't interested in hearing any more. Without another word, without warning, and without preamble, I pulled the trigger.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

There was a loud report. The pistol kicked in my hand. And nothing happened. I looked on with disbelieving eyes as Jesus simply laughed.

"You _are_ that dumb, aren't you? You actually think I would give you a loaded gun."

"But…"

"Blanks, my dear boy, blanks."

I glanced around the café. Everything seemed to be in still frame as Jesus' mocking laugh filled my ears. It was like we had stepped into an artist's still life as everyone held their breath in anticipation of what was to come. For a brief moment my gaze met Rei's, and she gave me the barest shade of a nod.

Then she sprang into motion. She twisted in Boris' grip and latched onto his neck with one hand. As she did so, her form shimmered, elongating as the mocha tint of her skin softened to pale pink. Her jacket and jeans metamorphosed into a battered leather duster, and the brown of her hair turned to platinum locks with the barest hint of pointed ears protruding from underneath. Boris' eyes lit up as a surge of magical energy coursed into his body. His arms jerked spasmodically as if he had latched onto an electrified fence. Then his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and Diana, now freed from her magical mask, let the limp body flop to the ground.

As soon as the dwarf hit the ground, the scene exploded into motion, gunfire erupting around me on all sides. I scrambled back toward an upended bench and dropped to the ground behind it while Michelson's men pushed the concrete table over, bullets whizzing overhead as both sec-men and gangers opened fire and ran for cover. I looked up, thankful to find that Diana was right beside me.

"We've got to move!" she shouted over the din of gunfire as several rounds slammed into the bench.

I knew it as well as she did, but I didn't have time to say so. One of Michelson's sec-guards poked her head over the table. Instead of ducking for cover again when she saw me, she twisted, trying to bring her pistol into line. Bad move. My cyber-gun spoke first, chewing into her face like a meat grinder. She sank behind the table once more, gurgling faintly. Then I was on my feet and running

"Follow me!" I shouted to Diana as a new volley of gunfire erupted from Michelson's men.

My feet pounded on the pavement and the blood rushed through my ears as I dashed for the café front counter, hoping that Diana was still on my heels. I was dimly aware of the bullets whizzing past me, but I stubbornly kept up my headlong flight. I was just a few steps away form the counter when something slammed into my shoulder. It felt like a troll had just beamed me with an eight-ball, but I almost welcomed the painful sensation—it meant that my jacket's ballistic weave had held. I staggered forward another step as another round hit square between my shoulder blades. Somehow I stayed on my feet and made one last desperate lunge for the counter.

I sailed through the air and belly-flopped onto the counter top, rolling over the edge to slam into a metal cabinet on the other side. I finally came to a rest on the floor, face to face with the frightened youth that had been manning the shop. I didn't have time to say anything to him, because a split-second later Diana sprang over the counter. A hail of lead chased her as she swung over the edge and landed on all fours. Bullets peppered the soda fountain behind us, sending a spray of KenolaCola geysering up into the air.

Suddenly another figure leaped over the counter. The leather-clad ganger initially landed on his feet, but he slipped in the soda and hit his ass hard, sprawling out in the foamy puddle now spreading across the floor. As the green-haired Razor groaned and rolled over, I saw that he clutched an Uzi III submachine gun in both hands and had an obscenely long knife strapped to his thigh. I also caught sight of the brass ring imbedded in his snout; it was my old friend Bullnose.

But there was no time to exchange pleasantries. I gathered myself into a crouch as Diana stuck her head over the counter for a brief second before she was chased back down by another fusillade of autofire.

"What's the situation?" I asked as I stuck my hand into my pocket, searching for a speed loader for the Warhawk.

"Bad. Two of the Razors are pinned down, another KIA. Some of Michelson's men are still there, but the others are hustling for the road."

My fingers found the loader. I popped out the revolver's cylinder and slammed the rounds home, snapping the magazine shut with a flick of my wrist. I accessed my commlink with the other hand. "Blitz, you read me?"

"Loud and clear. What the hell is going on there? The boys on my end are stirred up madder than a hornet's nest."

"Ran into a little snag, but we're okay. Michelson is headed back to the motorcade according to plan. Can you meet us at the street?"

"Roger that. I'll be there in two minutes."

I clicked the comm. in acknowledgement and rose up over the counter to snap off a quick shot at one of the sec-men that had just began a mad dash for the coffee stand. The warhawk kicked in my hand, and the round struck the man in his upper thigh. He gave a scream and pitched forward onto the graveled patio. I ducked behind the counter again before anyone could return fire.

"We can't afford to stay here and duke it out with these yabos," Diana yelled over the din of flying bullets. "We've got to catch up with Michelson."

"I know, I know!" I yelled back. I looked to the store clerk who was still cowering on the floor like a scared puppy. "Is there a back way out of here?"

He looked like I had just whispered to him the secret of life—and in a certain respect, I suppose I did. In the heat of the moment, he had evidently forgotten about that avenue of escape. His eyes widened like a telescopic lens. "Y-yes," he stammered.

"Show me," I ordered, grabbing him up by the scruff of his neck and shoving him toward the back.

We ran bent over double until we made it to the back, and then we rushed for the back door, following the clerk's lead. As soon as we reached it, I grabbed the handle and twisted, slamming my shoulder into the steel face. The door flew open, and I advanced through with the Warhawk held before me. Outside was a small paved portico, the only illumination being a bare street light mounted just above the building. A steel railing was mounted on the edge of the small patio, and a dumpster stuffed with cardboard boxes and all manner of consumables occupied the corner.

I looked at the clerk and gestured to the dumpster. "You hide behind that thing and don't come out until the shooting stops and you hear sirens, you got me?

He nodded dumbly, and I shoved him toward the corner. As I turned back, Diana had already vaulted the railing, the tail of her duster fluttering behind her. Bullnose and I followed her lead, hopping the rail before we crashed through the underbrush after her. The goons in the café proper opened fire on us, filling the air with a deluge of slugs. I kept going though, trees popping and splintering as the whizzing bullets turned wood into splinters. My breath was hot in my chest as I dodged and weaved through the foliage. More than once I stumbled over a protruding root, but I recovered and kept going, the promise of vengeance spurring me onward.

Suddenly we were at the street. I burst through the trees onto the sidewalk with my gun in my hand and fire in my eyes, wildly looking around for Michelson's motorcade. The street outside was mostly deserted, but a few pedestrians still meandered down the sidewalks, and more than a few cars streaked down the road. In a matter of seconds I had located my quarry, parked about thirty meters down the street. At that moment, two of the Ayanami sec-goons were in the process of helping Jesus into one of the sedans, the rest having already loaded up.

Without thinking, I lifted the Warhawk and fired. The magnum round struck one of the goons in the shoulder, spinning him around like a top. Someone somewhere screamed as the other guard shoved Jesus into the vehicle and tried to follow after him, but a chattering blast from Bullnose's Uzi caught him in the hip. He clutched his leg and went down screaming. With a screech of tires, the motorcade screeched away without him, racing off down the street. The pedestrians began to run for cover, and more than a few cars swerved and put on the gas, trying to flee from the firefight.

"Blitz!" I shouted into the commlink, "We're about to have Lonestar all over us. Where the hell are you?"

"I'm almost there, hold on!"

I swore and gestured to the sec-men still writhing on the ground. "Make sure those guys don't go anywhere."

"I'm on it," Bullnose said gruffly. He shouldered his weapon and jogged down the sidewalk toward them.

"Sugar," I said again into the comm., "What's the situation?"

"They're not hooked directly into the grid, but I've put in some false signals indicating construction zones and corresponding detour routes. They'll probably take the bait, but there's no guarantee."

"I'm sure someone's hit a panic button already. Lonestar is going to up our ass in a few seconds."

"There have already been a couple calls, but I was able to reroute them. Don't expect it to last, though. They've already started to pick up."

"Do what you can and keep me posted."

"Will do."

Just then the van tore around the corner of a side-street. Blitz brought it to a skidding stop at the sidewalk beside us. The side door slid open, revealing Rei—the real one—squatting in the doorway. She wore a combat harness over an armored vest, clutching Ingram smartgun in one hand.

"Come on, we don't have much time!" she shouted, extending a hand toward me.

I glanced back to tell Bullnose to get going, but what I saw made my gut lurch. He loomed over the two wounded men, his knife drawn and glinting in the street lights overhead. He grabbed one by the hair, preparing to draw the blade across his throat.

"What the frag are you doing?" I shouted.

"You said to take care of them," he snarled back. "And that's what I'm doing."

I took a seething step toward the ganger, but Diana stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

"We don't have time for this. Michelson is getting away!"

She was right. The dispute would have to wait. We had to take care of business first. "Put that up and get over here!" I shouted, swinging up into the van. Diana got in after me as Bullnose sheathed the weapon and jogged back to the van. Finally he got in, shooting me a scathing look, and I slammed the door behind them.

I returned the ganger's stare. "We'll talk about this later. Blitz, hit it!"

The rigger hit the gas, catapulting us down the road after our quarry.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The city streets flew by as Blitz pushed the van to the limit, weaving in and out of evening traffic. I steadied myself against the van's side and stooped toward the pile of gear on the floor, picking up my Colt M21A1 rifle. I hefted it to my shoulder and disengaged the safety before stuffing a pair of extra clips in my jacket pockets. Diana climbed into the front seat as I looked up at Blitz.

"How long until we catch up?"

He shook his head, datajack cord slapping against his neck. "They've got a head start. It will take a few seconds to find a way to cut them off."

"Coordinate with Sugar and find a route to intercept them."

The rigger nodded and turned his attention to his task as the rest of us held on for dear life in the back of the madly swaying vehicle.

I switched commlink frequencies and spoke into the receiver. "Viridian, you there?"

"Still here, _omae_," came the gruff reply.

"Michelson is on the move. He'll be headed your way shortly."

"Alright, we're in position and standing by."

"What about your boys at the ambush site?"

"Ready to roll and waiting for your command."

"Good. I'll be in touch. We're going to try to herd Michelson in your direction."

"Good enough for me."

"Gotcha!" Blitz suddenly cried aloud.

The van swerved around a corner, rocking precariously under the G-force. I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from sprawling on the floor. Blitz yanked the wheel, and the vehicle shuddered with a screech of metal as it broad-sided the last car in the motorcade. A jolt ran through the van, and suddenly the Landcruiser jerked ahead of us, engine screaming as the driver of the glossy black SUV fought to keep up with the rest of the convoy.

"Open the door!" I shouted to Rei, clutching my assault rifle in both hands.

She dutifully hauled open the door, and a flood of frigid air rushed into the van. I could already feel my face start to go numb as the biting wind howled past.

"Grab my jacket!" I shouted to Bullnose over the rushing air.

He gave me a quizzical look. "What?"

"Just do it!"

He grunted and grabbed the back of my coat, wrapping as much fabric as he could around his fists. I leaned out the door, using the green-haired youth as a counter-balance. As soon as I stuck my head out the door, the rushing wind intensified. I fought to stay somewhat upright and keep a hold on my rifle as Blitz swerved around traffic, trying to keep pace with the Ayanami vehicle just ahead. I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, squinting against the wind as I lined up the shot. The weapon's smartlink software imposed a red dot over my vision as I sighted the rifle over the Landcruiser's tires.

I squeezed the trigger, the Colt yammering wildly in my hands. Despite the madly swaying vehicles, the shot was perfect. But as the bullets tore into the rubber, nothing happened. The tires refused to burst. I should have known—they were runflats.

I quickly switch targets and opened fire at the rear of the vehicle. The bullets slammed into the rear windshield, spawning a spider web of cracks along the armored glass, yet it refused to shatter. The driver swerved, trying to evade my fire, but I stubbornly kept it up, peppering the back of the Landcruiser with precise bursts from the Colt. As the SUV started to pull away again, one of the passengers leaned out a window, the machine pistol in his hand sputtering angrily.

"Pull!" I shouted to Bullnose.

The ganger heaved, bracing one leg against the van wall as he grunted and strained to move my weight. He got me back inside just in time as bullets pinged and whined off of the van's armored skin.

I leaned out again, this time targeting the man leaning out the window. I laid on the trigger and used the rest of the weapon's clip to force the Ayanami goon back inside the vehicle. As the magazine ran dry, I mentally keyed the circuitry in the rifle with my cybernetics and switched firing modes to the underbarrel grenade launcher. An expanded red crosshair appeared in my vision, and I centered it over the backside of the Ayanami vehicle. Then I fired. The minigrenade leaped from the muzzle with a soft _bloop_ sound, and the next thing I knew, the rear window of the SUV blew apart in a ball of high-explosive force. Bits of flaming debris showered the pavement as the car veered violently to the side, sideswiping a streetlight before the driver regained control. Smoke poured out the back, but still the vehicle kept pace with the rest of the convoy.

Again I fired. This time the grenade flew through the shattered back window and ricocheted off the Landcruiser's interior paneling before going off. It filled the cabin with a wash of flames that shattered the windows and sent the vehicle careening out of control. It sideswiped a truck and then plowed head-first into a storefront. I didn't see much after that as we whizzed by after the rest of the motorcade.

"Hold on!" Blitz screamed.

I couldn't make out what he was saying over the screaming wind, but I soon figured it out anyway. Up ahead, the last car in the motorcade zipped through an intersection just as the light turned red. Horns blared and tires screeched as the other motorists tried to evade our hurtling van. Blitz tapped the breaks and expertly cut the wheel to the side, tossing Bullnose and me backward. We landed on our asses in a heap of tangled arms and legs as the van squirted through the intersection, barely missing the nose of another car.

My chest pounded after the close call. If Blitz had cut the wheel in the other direction, Bullnose and I would have been grease stains on the road by now. Not wanting to tempt fate again, I stood up and slammed the door.

As soon as the door slammed, I could hear again. I clawed my way to the front of the van, holding onto the front seats as the vehicle bucked and swayed down the street. Up ahead, I could see that the Ayanami motorcade had pulled away quite a bit after our near miss.

"Any idea where they're headed," I said to Blitz, still trying to catch my breath.

"Looks like they're following the detour route Sugar set up. We're almost on Viridian's position."

"Good." I went to the commlink. "Viridian, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"We're going to be at your position in about thirty seconds."

"Roger dat, Chummer. I'll pass along da word to my udder boys up ahead."

I started to switch the commlink off of active mode when suddenly Sugar's voice was yelling incessantly in my ear.

"That intersection was the nail in the coffin! There were so many calls on the telecom system that I couldn't stop them all. Patrol cars are going to be on the scene soon."

"Then we're going to have to make this fast. Blitz, did you hear that?"

He didn't answer as he threw the van into a hard turn. As we took the corner, I saw about half a dozen motor cycles tear around a side street up ahead, blazing just behind the last sedan in the motorcade. I saw Viridian in the lead, steel Mohawk glinting in the street lights and submachine gun chattering away at the cars ahead.

"They've got 'em," now I said, grinning. "Blitz, can you take a side street and get ahead to the ambush?"

The rigger nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

We took the next turn and whizzed by traffic, breaking about fifteen traffic laws in the process. Blitz took the next left and suddenly we were back at the downtown park, trees and buildings whizzing by as we raced along at breakneck speeds. The park stretched in a thin line through nearly all of Downtown, and by now we were just nearing the end of it.

I clicked the comm. to contact the other Razors who were waiting further down the road. "Michelson is almost on top of you. Lay out those spike strips now!"

"On it!" the ganger on the other end replied.

"Where are we on the pursuit?" I asked Blitz.

"We're almost on top of them."

"Look!" Diana shouted, gesturing ahead out the windshield.

Fifty meters ahead, the first vehicle in the motorcade, a dark SUV, tore down a side street. It tried to turn onto the main thoroughfare, but that became impossible as the spike strips that had been laid out across the intersection bit deep into the car's tires. The corporate vehicle may have been equipped with runflat tires, but the cross-weaved spike strips shredded through the rubber like a threshing combine. The SUV went into a skid as the bare rims sparked over the pavement. The driver spun the wheel trying to turn, but all he managed to do was present the Landcruiser's broad side toward the park. It hit the curb and tipped over on its side, skidding across the dry brown heath before it flipped. It somersaulted twice across the grassy expanse before coming to a rest on top its roof.

The other drivers realized what had happened and laid on the breaks, but it was too late. Tires screeched as they roared through the intersection right across the strips. The rubber tires fell away like so much chaff, and the vehicles vaulted over the curb. Without traction control the cars began to spin, gliding by several stands of trees that dotted the park landscape. One finally skidded to a stop next to a stone bridge that spanned an artificial creek, while the other nosed down directly into the water.

Blitz brought the van to a squealing halt by the curb, throwing nearly everything in the compartment up toward the front. Once I had regained my balance, I ejected the clip from my Colt and dug another one out of my jacket. I fitted it into the magazine and gripped the door handle, looking back at the others.

Diana had hauled her combat shotgun from between the seats and was busy affixing a large drum clip to it. Blitz had a pair of automatic pistols in his lap, and Bullnose cradled his Uzi in his arms, harboring a deep-seated rage in his young eyes. Rei mirrored that rage, fingering her Ingram Smartgun nervously.

"Are you ready for this? You don't have to if you don't want to. We can handle it by ourselves."

She shook her head grimly. "Yes, I'm sure. Let's end this once and for all."

"Alright then," I said, looking around at the group. "Lock and load people. This is it."

I wrenched the door open and jumped out, plunging head-first into the maelstrom.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

We charged over the open heath, dodging side to side as bullets whizzed overhead. The overturned SUV lay several meters to the left, and the Ayanami personnel had piled out of their ruined vehicles and taken shelter behind the bridge where it butted up against one of the Toyota Elites. Behind us I heard the Razors' motorcycles as their chugging motors cut off and their raucous battle cries joined with the sound of gunfire.

I broke for the upturned SUV to the left, motioning the others to follow. As if sensing my plan, Viridian led the Razors in the other direction, fanning out in an attempt to envelope the Ayanami position. Bullets kicked up the dirt around me as I bolted to the right, interposing the overturned Landcruiser between me and the Ayanami goons to give us some cover. The vehicle provided us with decent cover, and soon Michelson's goons were exchanging fire with the Razors, giving us a brief respite. Movement flickered out of the corner of my eye, and I saw that there were still people strapped to their seats inside the car. One had managed to crawl out and scrambled several meters away from it, while two more were still fumbling about inside.

I came to a stop just inches away from the one on the ground. He looked up at me with a pleading look right before I kicked his teeth in. Then Bullnose was beside me, planting another series of kicks into his groin and stomach. I turned away from the helpless man as Bullnose proceeded to beat him senseless, focusing my attention on the SUV. My underbarrel launcher spoke, hurling a grenade toward the downed vehicle. The projectile hit the ground and then bounced up into the cabin of the vehicle. The men inside screamed, but a fiery blast tore through the car, drowning out their voices. A split-second later another explosion erupted. It tore through the vehicle with savage abandon, belching flame high into the night sky.

I looked over to see Rei standing a short distance away. She held her hand up to shield her face from the heat wave as the fiery light danced over her features like a Belanese dancer, casting dark shadows over her face. She gave a start as an animalistic roar sounded from behind. She spun around to see Bullnose as he gave another bestial cry and swung his booted foot into the sec-man's face. His head snapped backward and finally ceased to struggle as consciousness left him.

Shock registered on her face before I grabbed her by the arm and spun her around to face me. The look of my face, like some feral animal framed in the firelight, made whatever she was going to say die on her tongue.

"You and Blitz are going to stay here," I said, not even making a pretense of explaining myself. "Give us cover fire when you can and make sure those wage-slaves keep their heads down."

Sporadic gunfire punctuated the background noise as her gaze drifted from mine to the wreckage that was still wreathed in flames.

"Hey!" I grabbed her by the chin and turned her head toward me. "Get your drek together. We still have work to do."

She nodded dumbly.

"Blitz, watch her ass and give us some cover fire."

"You got it, P," the rigger assured me, hefting his machine pistols for emphasis.

I shouldered my rifle, steeling myself against what I knew was coming next. Motioning Diana and Bullnose after me, I took off across open ground toward the nearest stand of trees and shrubbery to the right. Michelson's men opened fire as soon as we broke cover, but for the most part, their ill-aimed shots missed wide. I reached the copse of trees sooner than I thought and dodged behind a large oak when a crash sounded behind me. I looked back to see Bullnose sprawled out in the underbrush. At first I thought he was down for good, but then he was up on his hands and knees, scurrying for cover.

Diana slung her shotgun over her shoulder. "Cover me!" she shouted, moving back to help Bullnose.

I braced my shoulder against the pine and turned back toward the firefight. Muzzle flashes lit up the night like a sputtering Christmas tree as the sec-men traded fire with the Razors, one or two of them taking pot-shots at us in the process. I bent my head toward the scope of my Colt, watching as the magnification intensified and the red crosshairs swam into my vision. I centered the reticule over the first figure I saw. He stood up over the car, frantically shouting directions to the men around him. In the darkness, I couldn't see his face, but the straw-colored hair atop his head told me instantly who he was: Blondie. I stroked the trigger twice, and the assault rifle barked in my hands. A split second later, the Ayanami security chief jerked backward as the bullets struck, but an opaque white film flashed around him, protecting him from the brunt of the attack

"Fragging magic," I swore under my breath, quickly shifting aim before the sec-men could figure out where the shot came from. One of the company men had poked his head over top of their makeshift barricade, looking around for the source of the last attack. I centered the targeting reticule over his head and pumped the trigger. The unsuspecting yabo's head exploded in a shower of gore, and he flopped to the ground behind the Toyota.

That really got their attention.

I whirled back around the other side of the tree as a volley of return fire slammed into my cover of choice, showering me with a spray of splinters and wood chips. I looked over as Diana hauled Bullnose into cover once more.

"Are you okay?" I asked

The ganger nodded breathlessly. "Yeah, I just got the wind knocked out of me."

Suddenly Sugar's voice was in my ear, screaming incessantly. "You've got Lonestar closing in on your position!"

"How long do we have?" I said, taking one hand off of my weapon to hold it against the throat comm. piece.

"Three minutes—five tops. I can reroute the patrol cars with the GridGuide, but it's not going to last long. You better finish this up quick."

I glanced around the tree, only to be chased back by another volley of fire. I growled with frustration. "We're fragging pinned down, Diana, can you give me some help?"

"It'll take some time, but yeah. You'll have to distract them."

"We can take care of that. You just do what you have to do."

She nodded her assent, and again I held my hand to my commlink. "Blitz, you still there _omae_?"

"Yeah, buddy. What can I do you for?" His words were lighthearted, but his voice sounded strained.

"We gotta lay down some cover fire so that Diana can do her thing. You up for it?"

"Always, P. I'll tell Rei to be ready. You just tell me when."

"You'll know when the fireworks start."

"Roger that."

I clicked the comm. and turned my attention to Bullnose. "We're going to need you too."

He gave me a determined nod, lifting his Uzi in his arms.

I took a deep breath. Then I shouldered the Colt and twisted around the tree, mentally switching firing modes as I went. I pumped the trigger twice, and the underbarrel grenade launcher coughed, spitting a pair of grenades at the Ayanami position. The first rebounded off of the bridge and into the stream, detonating in a geyser of water. The other hit the Toyota Elite and rebounded into the dirt right in front of it. The muffled explosion went off, kicking up a huge spray of earth. It was largely ineffectual, but the spray of mud made the Ayanami goons duck for cover.

"You're clear!" I shouted to Diana.

The magician rose up from behind the bushes she had been hiding behind, her hands twisting in some kind of intricate pattern. I turned away from her as the ritual progressed and focused my attention on the Ayanami position. Switching back over to full auto, I peppered the car and bridge with precise bursts of fire to force the Ayanami men to keep their heads down. Bullnose joined the barrage with me, and soon more weapons rang out from somewhere across the darkened park as Blitz and Rei added their voices to the mix. As I kept up the fire, I was consciously aware of the magazine quickly draining of rounds, but we effectively pinned down the opposition and bought Diana valuable time.

Finally the channel clicked empty. "Reloading!" I cried, fumbling through my jacket for the last clip. A mental key from my cyberware ejected the spent magazine, and I slammed the new one home. But as I chambered the first round, I found that it wasn't needed.

Diana finished her spell and stretched her hands out, palms upward. The earth before the Toyota began to tremble. As she slowly began to lift her hands upward, a shape started to claw its way out of the ground. The thing was shaped roughly like a gorilla; its thick arms nearly dragged the ground, and its hunched form towered nearly three and a half meters tall. Roots and rocks stuck out from its lumpy form, and a tuft of brownish grass sat atop the low crown of what looked to be its head. The earth elemental turned toward Michelson's position and surged forward. It bounded up onto the Toyota's hood, and the vehicle's chassis crumpled under the spirit's manifested weight before it leapt down into the midst of the corporate formation. It reached out toward the nearest Ayanami goon and grabbed her up in its beefy arms, tossing her into the air. She screamed as she sailed toward the stream, landing hard with a splash.

I looked back to Diana where she stood with a triumphant grin plastered over her face. "C'mon," I shouted, "let's get moving while they're distracted!"

I motioned the others after me and made a break for the next copse of trees, trying to maneuver toward the makeshift barricades while sticking to cover. As we dashed across the open ground, I looked over to see Viridian leading his boys in a similar tactic to close the gap between them and Michelson. We neared our objective, a small stand of trees about thirty meters from the Toyota. As we got closer, one of the sec-men seemed to wise up to our plan and opened fire, railing away with his submachine gun. I lunged, plowing into the underbrush like a bulldozer. I rolled to a stop and pressed my back against a large oak as Bullnose dove amidst the trees. I looked over to Diana who was hot on our heels. She was just at the edge of the copse when she staggered. A pair of crimson wounds blossomed on her chest and shoulder as the bullets penetrated the armored lining of her duster. She pitched forward on the ground, her lifeblood spilling out onto the grass and leaves underneath. A cold hand of fear twisted my stomach.

"Diana!" I shouted, lurching back toward her. Bullets hounded my flight, but I seized her by the back of her coat and dragged her into cover. I collapsed on the ground by her side, rolling her over face-up. She gasped, her breath coming in gurgling wheezes. Her shoulder was a bloody mess that had already been caked with dirt and wet, glistening leaves. Bullnose started to brush them off, but I slapped his hand away.

"Leave them. Right now it's the only thing keeping her from bleeding out."

I turned my attention back to Diana as she gave a bubbling sigh. The sound told me that her lung had been punctured—she was going to die if I didn't do something. My heart raced hysterically.

I desperately pushed the emotion down, but I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice. "I'm going to get you out of here," I said frantically. "We've got to get you to a hospital."

She gasped, shaking her head. "You can't!"

"The hell I can't," I growled, moving to scoop her up into my arms. "The others can finish this up."

"No, you don't understand… the elemental… Harrison has taken control of it!"


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

I tore my eyes away from Diana's bleeding body and looked to the Ayanami position. For a second, the elemental froze, standing erect like a dog listening to a far away noise. Then it made an abrupt turn and lumbered toward the advancing Razors, heeding the call of its new master. Caught by surprise, they could only scream before the hulking spirit closed on them. It grabbed up one of the gangers, a skinny mal-nourished looking ork, and hurled him into a nearby copse. The youth hit a tree with a thud and slumped to the ground. Then the elemental was moving again, swinging its arms in a wide arc as it attempted to thrash the life out of any opposition.

"You have to take out Harrison!" Diana gasped.

I looked at her over my shoulder, then back at the elemental as it thrashed its way through the thinning ranks of gangers. The choice seemed obvious.

"Rei, Blitz," I said into the comm., "can you see what's going on?"

"Yeah," Blitz's said through the static. "What the hell happened to send that thing off the deep end?"

"Michelson's mage has control of the elemental. Can you draw the spirit's attention? I'm going to try to take out Blondie."

"You got it, P."

I looked to Bullnose. "Once that bastard gets back into the open, you let him have it and draw him away from Blitz. Whatever you do, don't get into close combat with that thing."

The ganger nodded just as a new round of autofire split the night. Blitz and Rei opened fire from behind the hulk of the ruined SUV. A blast from Rei's Smartgun struck the spirit full in the shoulder. It didn't hurt the creature, but it sure enough got its attention. It stood tall, arching its back as it lifted its head to the sky. The spirit issued a scream—a horrific wail that no voice born of this earth could reproduce. It whirled back toward Blitz and Rei and charged.

I seized the opportunity and broke from cover, darting across the open ground toward the Ayanami position while Bullnose trailed several paces behind. Thanks to the confusion wrought by the elemental, no one noticed me until I got around the Toyota. Michelson crouched on the ground next to Blondie, who stood, directing the remaining security personnel in their fight against what was left of the Razors. One of the sec-men saw me—a big ork that had more stubble on his chin than on the crown of his head.

He began to point, trying to bring his bullpup AK-97 around to face me, but my boosted reflexes gave me an edge the company man simply couldn't compete with.

A burst from my Colt struck him in the chest. He staggered backward as the bullets flattened out against his Kevlar vest, but didn't fall. I switched tactics and squeezed off another blast as he tried to regain his footing—this time at his lower extremities. The Colt jerked in my hands, and a trio of rounds tore into the ork's crotch. That time he went down. His blubbering screams assured me he wasn't getting up any time soon.

I turned my attention back to Blondie, but the element of surprise was gone. Blondie had seen me. I dodged behind the Toyota, covering my head with my free hand as a ball of fire leapt from the mage's fingertips. A wave of heat swept over my upraised arm. I gritted my teeth as the skin on my left arm sizzled, but the brunt of it struck my cybernetic hand. As the flames finally died down, I rose up from my crouch and grabbed the Colt again. My cyber hand reacted a bit sluggishly, but it still did the job as I squeezed off a shot at Blondie before he could start another spell.

But then something else happened—something I hadn't foreseen.

Michelson stood up.

He started to yell, pointing toward some other threat off to the right. Before he could get a word out, the bullets slammed into his shoulder, stitching a ragged line into his neck and jaw in a splash of gore. His million dollar smile was obliterated in an instant. He hardly uttered a sound before he collapsed in a bloody heap. I kept the trigger depressed as he fell, riding the recoil upward to take care of Blondie too. But the executive's death had bought him valuable time. Blondie folded his arms over his chest, and an opaque bubble flashed in front of him. The impact of the rounds still sent him reeling, but as he toppled backward onto the ground, he was still operational.

I swore and tried to line up another shot.

A shout from Bullnose stopped me from finishing the job. His machine gun sputtered behind me, and I turned to see the earth elemental charge straight into the young ganger. The giant spirit hurtled through him like he was nothing more than a rag doll. It didn't even break stride as Bullnose tumbled to a stop several meters away, and the elemental kept up its inexorable advance straight toward me. I knew then that Harrison had called in backup, and suddenly the charging elemental became priority one.

Instead of standing and fighting, I turned and vaulted over the hood of the Elite. The remaining sec-goon on the other side tried to bring his weapon to bear, but a hulking shape rose up from behind the low stone wall of the bridge. Viridian tackled the man like a spider enveloping a fly and bore him down to the ground beneath his massive girth.

The opportunity didn't go to waste. I could hear and feel the elemental behind me as I lined up the shot. Blondie had scrambled backward, fear evident in his eyes as he desperately readied another spell—but I wasn't going to give him the chance. I switched the Colt's firing mode in the blink of an eye and pulled the trigger. Then he was gone in a haze of flame and flying dirt as the grenade hit the ground directly at his feet. His tattered body tumbled backward, lying still where it had fallen.

Then I heard that unnatural scream once more—this time, it was right behind me.

With its master slain, I had expected the spirit to recede back to where it had come from. It no longer had a purpose on this plane. But the spirit did just the opposite. It didn't like being coaxed from its earthly slumber, and it wasn't happy just to go back to where it came from. That sucker was pissed off.

I twisted around to see the elemental where it stood on the other side of the Elite. It gave another roar and slammed its fists into the trunk of the car. The metal buckled under the impact, and the spirit latched onto the car's side, heaving with all of its manifested might. I lunged to the side as the Toyota toppled backward. I hit the ground and rolled, tucking my legs to my chest. The car crashed to the ground just inches away from me, and I scrambled to my feet. The elemental turned back toward me as I dashed away from it back toward the others. I turned back to look as it lumbered after me, quickly closing the gap. There wasn't any time to waste aiming, so I fired from the hip, the Colt yammering wildly.

At that range, I couldn't miss. Bullets slammed into the spirit's chest, but the rounds just thudded into dirt. I turned to run again, but the elemental surged forward and grabbed me up by my jacket. I had a brief sensation of weightlessness as it hefted me over its head. Then it heaved. My hands turned to jelly as I soared, and the Colt slipped from my grip.

I don't know how far I flew, but it felt like a twenty foot drop as I hit the ground. Air left my lungs with a coughing _whoosh_ as hot knives of pain spasmed through my back and shoulders. Agony flashed through my senses as I rolled over, trying to get up on my hands and knees. But my limbs were numb, and I collapsed to the ground once more before I had risen even half way. I gasped again, squeezing my eyelids shut as I tried to draw breath once more. I wanted just to lie there until I could feel again.

Fresh gunshots split the night, and my eyes flashed open, swimming with tears. People needed me. I couldn't lie around anymore. I looked about, trying to get my bearings. Bullnose lay a few meters away, writhing feebly on the ground. The elemental had gone berserk, thrashing wildly at anything and everything it could lay its hands on. The few Razors left were trying to hold it at bay, but nothing seemed to be working. I glanced around, trying to think of something to do.

My mind raced as Gunshots sounded. Screams split the night. In the depths of my mind I heard Diana whispering:

"Bullets aren't going to work. There's not enough force of will behind a gun."

My gaze sought Bullnose again, but this time my eyes fell upon the knife strapped to his thigh.

I staggered to my feet, scrambling over to the ganger as fast as my tingling legs could carry me. I collapsed onto all fours as my pain-numbed legs gave out. I shook my head, trying to push past the agony as I crawled the rest of the way to his side. Bullnose briefly acknowledged my presence, uttering a low groan as he twisted on the ground. My hand snaked out, sliding the blade from its sheath. He moaned feebly as the weapon left his side. His eyes flashed open, seeking my face with tear-brimming eyes. The look of sheer anguish in his face made my gun turn. I pushed his image out of my mind as I laboriously drew myself upright. For a moment I stood there, regarding the knife in my hands like a drunk who's found something intriguing at the bottom of his glass.

If bullets wouldn't work, perhaps this would.

I started off at a lurching gait, the elemental growing larger and larger in my vision as my tingling limbs carried me closer to the frenzied spirit. The elemental had charged down into the stream, stomping its trunk-like foot onto the back of the Ayanami woman who was trying to scramble out of the ditch. It still had its back to me when I reached the bank. Then I left my feet and took to the air.

My leap came to an abrupt halt as the earthen wall hit me like a ton of bricks. I clawed for purchase on the elemental's shoulders like a drowning man clinging to drift wood. I got one arm around its head and managed to dig my toes into its backside. The knife flashed, stabbing into the spirit's shoulder. My arm drew back and plunged it in again, digging into the soft earth with each stroke. No blood came forth, but dark mud began to ooze from the wounds as the spirit gave a savage cry. The sound was full of fury more than pain, but I still took comfort in that fact—it was still in pain. And if I could hurt it, then I could kill it too.

Its arms bent back at a weird angle, hammering, flailing, and grasping at my body. Despite the pounding blows, I clung to that earthen behemoth with all my might. It finally managed to grab hold of one of my legs and pulled. My toes scrambled for any kind of purchase as the spirit yanked on my lower body. I had to give up the attack to hold on for dear life.

Just when I thought my fingers were about to slip, there was a huge splash in front of the spirit as a creature nearly as big as the elemental itself waded into the melee. The earthen creature shuddered as the new combatant charged into it. I caught sight of the gleaming steel studs and the twisted Viridian grappled with the spirit, pumping his gnarled fists into its gut.

Thanks to the new distraction, the spirit had to let go of me and attend to the new threat. I was able to latch on with my legs again and began to slash at it with renewed vigor. Its frantic thrashing told me we were hurting it, but it didn't seem to be loosing any steam.

I had drawn back for another stab when one of the elemental's flailing limbs struck me just below my rig cage. My grip melted, and it gave a great heave, bucking me off of its back. I landed in the stream, slightly dazed, but the cold water jarred me back into full awareness. I scrambled to my feet, knife still in hand and ready to fling myself back into the melee.

Then I saw her. She stood on the bank, slumped over, holding one hand to her wounded shoulder. Diana's body language spoke of complete and utter defeat in every way, yet her eyes still held a defiant spark. Immediately I knew what she had planned. I wanted to protest, to tell her to back off—to lie down and wait for help to arrive. I knew her body would give out if she tried to manipulate any more magic.

But then a loud crack sounded, and Viridian roared in pain as the elemental snapped one of his horns off in one giant paw. Suddenly I knew. We were over matched. We couldn't win this fight without Diana's help.

I grunted and turned away, pushing down my feelings of doubt and worry as I slashed my way back into the fight. I jumped, latching onto the elmental's wide back. My arm worked back and forth in a frenzy, plunging the blade into the great spirit's backside over and over. Viridian roared, fueling his anger with his pain. We beat and stabbed and clawed with nothing backing up the blows but our own raw will.

Then something warm washed over my body. The magic made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but it did something far worse to the elemental. The spirit gave an inhuman howl, as its pain-wracked body convulsed under me. And then it simply disintegrated, leaving Viridian and me with nothing but dirt and rocks to cling to. We landed in a heap on the mound of earth that was quickly becoming mud.

I drew myself up from the muck. My back and limbs throbbed and my breath came in labored pants. I bent over to help Viridian to his feet, then turned back to the bank, searching for Diana. At first I couldn't see her, but then I caught sight of a figure collapsed on the edge of the bank—little more than a pile of ragged clothing. I knew immediately that my worst fears had come true.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

"Diana!"

The words had been on my tongue, but the anguished cry did not come form me.

Blitz ran across the park grounds and fell to his knees by her side. He scooped up her limp body, cradling her head in his lap.

I scrambled out of the ditch, extricating myself from the clinging, sucking mud. Almost hesitantly, I made my way across the short span to where her body lay. Her platinum hair, now soiled with a dull mauve mixture of blood and dirt, lay pooled under her head on Blitz's lap. Blood had covered most of her torso, but the ivory skin of her face was strangely free of tarnish. Her chest no longer rose and fell, but her eyes were open. Sightless and glassy, they stared upward at the sky as if seeing something that none of us could see.

The fatigue and physical pain of the last few minutes had faded from my mind, replaced with a dull ache of despair that felt as it if would burst from my chest for its sheer magnitude. Diana's death had been my fault—I had gotten her into the middle of all this, and she had paid for my mistakes. One of the few people who had ever truly understood me—who had ever truly appreciated me—was dead because of me. But despite all this anguish, I couldn't help but think that some kind of shameful silver lining lay at the edges of that dark thunderhead.

I was glad it wasn't Sugar.

I pushed down the disgraceful sentiment and forced my lips to move. "Is she…" I couldn't bring myself to utter the word because I already knew the answer.

Blitz nodded numbly, but he didn't speak. He kept his face bowed toward hers, hiding the anguish evident in his features. Off in the distance, the sound of sirens was growing. I looked around. Viridian and the rest of the Razors helped their wounded off the field, grabbing up bits of equipment as they went. A few intermittent gunshots rang out, but the night was largely silent except for the growing wail of sirens.

I touched Blitz's arm. "We gotta go."

He didn't budge.

Throughout the mere week I had known him, he'd never given the barest hint of anything more than platonic attachment to Diana, but in that moment of supreme grief, it was obvious that he cared for her as more than a business partner. They may not have been lovers, but they were friends. He loved her all the same.

"Lonestar will be here soon," I urged quietly. "We have to clear out."

He nodded and rose, reverently laying her head to the ground. Her dirty platinum locks pillowed beneath her head as her sightless eyes continued to gaze heavenward.

We turned back to the road as Rei approached, walking back from where the Toyota Elite was situated against the bridge. She had a hollow look in her eyes, as if the events of the battle had taken a toll on her. She kept her gaze looking forward as she walked, as if she refused to look on the carnage around her. The deaths of so many people—people that she had employed just weeks before—had frightened her into dull acceptance.

"Michelson's dead," she said without emotion. "It's over."

"Did you find Jesus too?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. "No. I couldn't find him."

I glanced around, looking for the fixer's body—to assure myself that this _was_ over. But I couldn't see him. Where was he?

The sound of a revving motorcycle broke into my thoughts. I spun, seeking the source of the noise. And then I found both the objects which I had sought—Jesus sat astride one of the Razors' Harley Scorpions. He flashed me a mocking grin, and then leapt into motion, screaming down the street and into the night.

I started toward the vehicles at a dead sprint. The sound of the Scorpion was quickly overtaken by the sirens that were no longer just in the distance. At first I looked to the van, but the crotch rockets were closer. I didn't care what I had to do—I couldn't let Jesus escape.

I swung onto one of the motorcycles. Blitz's frantic cries sounded behind me, but they were soon drowned out by the throaty roar of the bike as the engine rumbled to life at my touch. I hit the gas and howled off down the street like a wolf bounding after its prey.

The road hog thrummed between my legs, its bass crescendo filling my ears with a staccato roar. The feeling of such raw power between my thighs brought back old unbidden memories—memories of my life on the streets. They were memories of a different time—a time before Sugar, before Rei, and before Diana. Thoughts of the dead magician sent a renewed pang of guild slashing at my heart strings. My first instinct was to retreat from it, but instead I grabbed hold, transmuting that pain into raw, unbridled fury. That old rage came back—not anger at any one person. Jesus certainly, but it was more than that. It was anger at the entire fragging world. That unbridled rage threatened to burst from every orifice of my body, and at that moment, all I could think of was making someone pay.

I dodged around traffic, leaning side to side as I cut dangerously close to the cars around me. I caught sight of Jesus ahead of me, stopped at an intersection about fifty meters ahead where a red light had grid locked traffic. He glanced back, and seeing me, he swung the bike around to shoot off to the right down the bisecting street.

I swore as I reached the back of the traffic queue, swinging up onto the sidewalk. The late night diners and club-goers along the curb scattered, pressing themselves against the buildings as I blazed down the sidewalk. Frightened and angry shouts chased my back, but I ignored them as the Harley vaulted off of the curb and back onto the street. The engine howled as I lay on the gas and shot off down the street.

Jesus was about thirty meters away as I rounded the corner. I goosed the throttle with one hand as the other went to my shoulder holster and grasped hold of the Warhawk's ivory handle. Neon reflections glinted along the barrel as the cold chrome met with open air. A split second after it had cleared the holster, I was pulling the trigger.

But the swerving bike wasn't the best firing platform ever. Actually, it was like trying to ink someone's arm on back of a galloping horse—a painful operation. And the results of my attacker were painful to look at.

Jesus' bike was just twenty meters ahead, but each of my shots missed horribly. The first shattered the back of a Ford Americar as the fixer whizzed by unharmed. I continued to work the trigger, bullets striking the pavement around the fleeing bike, but none of them came closer that a meter to actually hitting. By the time I realized this wasn't going to work, I was out of bullets.

Reloading on a moving bike wasn't an option, so I growled and holstered the Warhawk. I squirted between a city transit bus and a delivery van, throttling up to catch up to Jesus. As I closed the gab to about ten meters, I took my cybernetic hand off the handle bars and pointed it at Jesus' skinny backside. But then he swerved, zipping between a taxi and another sedan. I tried to follow, but I had to slam on the breaks as the gap quickly disappeared. I had to clamp down on the handlebars with both hands to keep from tumbling over the front.

Horns blared around me as I fought for control of the Harley. Finally I got it under control again, but as I looked for Jesus again, I saw that he had more than doubled his lead in the next lane. Fortunately for me, though, Jesus hadn't spent as much time in the saddle as I had. I got on his tail quickly, and soon enough his skinny ass was in my gunsights once again. I kept one hand on the throttle as I lined up the shot—then I mentally keyed the trigger.

But nothing happened. I cursed my ill luck, and checked the magazine through my cybernetic uplink. It was more than three quarters full, so what was the problem? I cursed again when I realized what it was. That fireball Blondie chucked at me didn't damage the gears and servos, but it must have fried the firing circuitry.

"Drek!" I shouted, but the words were lost over the howling of the Scorpion's engine.

I was going to have to take a more hands-on approach, but that was fine by me. The more I could make him hurt, the better I would feel.

I leaned forward in the seat, urging the motorcycle closer and closer to Jesus. Finally I got almost abreast of him. I prepared to lash out at his cycle with a kick designed to knock him off balance. A flicker of movement flashed the color of gunmetal under his arm. I chirped the breaks just as a muzzle flash flared. The shot narrowly missed, grazing by my shoulder.

As soon as I began to decelerate, Jesus threw on the breaks too, and I nearly overshot him as he turned down a narrow alleyway. Tires squealed as I leaned into the turn. The front fender sparked against the alley wall, and one of the stirrups caught against a mislaid brick and snapped off, whirling into the darkness. Newspaper and other detritus whirled in my wake as I chased Jesus' tail lights down the alley. I jockeyed closer to the bike in front. As soon as I got my front tire even with his back one, Jesus violently cut the bike toward me. I had to break to keep from turning into a grease stain against the side of a dumpster. Once I recovered, I gritted my teeth and swung in behind him—I was going to have to do it the hard way.

We blazed into a neon pall of light as we cut across another street, but the aura disappeared as quickly as it had come as we whipped through traffic and into the next alley. A few squatters dashed out of our way, but I paid them no mind as I leaned forward in the seat, trying to squeeze more speed out of the Harley's straining engine. As soon as I got close enough, Jesus began to swerve to cut me off again.

Instead of decelerating, I leaned into him. Our bikes met with a screech of grinding metal as I took my hands from the handle bars and laid them on the fixer's shoulders. My legs heaved, pushing away from the bike and onto Jesus' back. He gave a choking scream and twisted out of the saddle as the twisted metal that was our bikes rocketed past. I bore Jesus to the ground, using his body to cushion my fall. His face and chest took the brunt of the impact, but a split second after we hit, physics took over and my grip vaporized like dew on a summer morning.

Jesus disappeared from my vision as a hand of agony seized me. My shoulders and legs whipped along the ground in my somersaulting tumult, my battered body screaming in protest. I tried to tuck my chin to my chest as I tumbled along the sodden pavement, but it didn't do much good. Skin and clothing alike flayed away at the asphalt's touch, and more than once my head snapped back and hit the ground. If it wasn't for my thick orkish skull, my brain would have been dashed all over the pavement. Even though it didn't kill me, renewed pain flashed through my synapses for what seemed like an eternity. And then everything was still. My arms, knees, and thighs were on fire, and my head had taken more than a few knocks, and the world around me spun like a maddened tilt-a-whirl, but whether from the tumble or a concussion, I couldn't tell.

For a moment, I just lay there and watched a dark sliver of sky spin and cartwheel above me, relishing the feel of the cool concrete against my cheek.

But again, I couldn't lie around and wait to catch my breath. If I didn't move, Jesus might escape. And despite all my pain and misery, that thought trumped everything. The knowledge of his betrayal sent a renewed burst of energy through my limbs—but that energy was tempered by a grief that clung to my heart like brackish liken, feeding off of my soul's sorry. Diana was dead. I had to vent my anger at someone—anything that could hurt—that could know the pain I felt.

I staggered to my feet, using the grimy wall for support. Agony shot through my right leg as I put pressure on it. I td idn't give out automatically, so it most likely wasn't broken—fractured, but not broken. It still hurt like a sonuvabitch, though. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself upright anyway, looking around for the object of my ire.

It didn't take me long to find him. He lay with his face buried against the wall a short distance away, legs twisted at impossible angles. I hobbled over to him, pain lancing through my injured leg and throbbing in just about every other part of my body. Despite my seething anger, I calmly reached down and grabbed a handful of his jacket, rolling him over to face me.

At first I thought he was dead. One of his arms hung limply by his side, and raw flesh stood out from his face, oozing blood. I imagined my body looked somewhat similar, but at that moment I wasn't feeling any of the pain. The only thing on my mind was revenge. Then his eyes flickered open—emotionless pits of ebony that seemed to devour the feeble light in the alley.

Despite his pitiful shape, a slight smile cracked his bleeding lips. " Hoi, chummer." He gave a cough, and I saw the crimson film coating his teeth.

I didn't answer as my hand went to my shoulder. Chrome met with ivory as my fist closed over the pistol grip, fluidly drawing the Warhawk from his holster.

A shadow of fear passed over his twisted features. "Now Peaches… let's—let's talk about this a second."

I wasn't in the mood to talk any more, but he jabbered on anyway. "We can cut a deal or something. I have money. I can set you and sugar up real nice. We can work something out!"

"I don't want your money," I growled through clenched teeth.

"Then what? I-I'll give you whatever you want!"

"You keep on trying to treat this like a business deal. You can't _buy _me off. I told you before. This is personal." I flipped out the cylinder on the warhawk and reached into my jacket pocket with the other hand. With calm deliberance I took out another speed loader and slipped it into the chamber, pressing it closed and cocking the hammer.

That specter of fear on his face manifested in full. Those black eyes couldn't do anything to hide the horror rising in his soul. "Come on, let's talk about this!"

"The time for talk is over."

The feeble light in the alley glinted off the Warhawk's chrome surface. As my finger tightened on the trigger, one thought danced through my mind.

_With this bullet, I thee wed_.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The night rain beat a staccato rhythm against the diner window. Sitting at one of the restaurant's booths, I looked down at the untouched cut of soycaf on the table before me. I resisted the urge to reach up and scratch at the patches of synth-flesh on my face and neck, and instead kept my gaze down at the table. People were talking around me, but I was only peripherally aware of it. My mind was awash with other thoughts.

Suddenly a hand touched my knee under the table. I looked up at Sugar where she sat beside me. She nodded to the other side of the table.

"She's talking to you."

My gaze traveled across the booth to where Rei sat beside Blitz and Bullnose. Rei wore a dark jacket and jeans like she had been before, but her complexion was considerably healthier. Blitz, on the other hand, showed dark circles undr his eyes. Of the three of them, Bullnose looked the worst. His left arm was in a sling, and I knew that underneath his leather jacket there was enough bandaging around his ribs to choke a horse.

I reached out and picked the smoking cigarette from the ash tray, holding it to my lips. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"I've said it before, but it bears repeating. Thank you for everything—for all your sacrifices.

Blitz snorted derisively.

I couldn't disagree with him, but I didn't voice my sentiment. I just nodded mutely as Rei continued.

"Nothing I can do is going to totally make up for what happened to you and your friends, but this might come close."

She reached into her jacket pocket and took out of it a glossy black credstick. She set it on the table, where it glared up at me like a baleful phantom—staring like Jesus' dark eyes just before I put a bullet between them. This was never about money. I didn't want it. I didn't need it.

But I took it anyway. I reached out across the table palmed the credstick.

Rei nodded with satisfaction, but didn't smile. "Just think of it as a bonus for all of your hard work. I figure you've earned it."

I nodded again, not trusting my voice to say anything else.

I can't set you up with another place, but you can take care of yourself pretty well with those funds. With all the turmoil in the company, I'm not going to be able to do anything related to the shadows for quite some time."

"How are things on your end?" Sugar asked, making a pretense at polite conversation.

Rei shrugged. "Michelson's most ardent supporters died along with him that night in the park. His allies on the board have either jumped ship or fallen in line since then. The company is under my control again—for how long, I don't know, but it looks like the situation is in hand."

For a moment, we were all silent before Rei looked at me once more. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you plan to do now? Are you going to find a place where you can settle down again?"

I took a long drag off the cigarette and blew the smoke up into the air, watching it spiral away and dissipate. "No," I said, glancing at Sugar, "I think we've decided against it. The shadows wanted me back, and now they have me. I don't think I can retire twice."

She nodded sagely. "Well, when things cool down on my end, maybe we can see about another job."

"Yeah, that'd be good," I said without emotion.

"Well, then I guess I should be going. I've got business to attend to." She stood up from the table and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Take care of yourself, Peaches." She held my gaze for just a moment longer before she looked around at the others. "The same goes for the rest of you, too. Watch your backs." With that, she turned and strode for the door, disappearing into a haze of falling rain and moving headlights.

For a moment we were all quiet again. The waitress came by and made the pretense of filling up my coffee cup, even though I'd hardly touched it. After she left, Bullnose finally broke the silence.

"Viridian sends his regards. I didn't want to say anything with her around, but he wasn't very pleased with the outcome that night. What we scavenged wasn't enough to make up for what we lost. Some good people got flatlined, and someone managed to trash two really nice bikes." He gave me a pointed look at the last bit.

"I'll make it up to him," I said, tapping the credstick against the table. "I owe your people more than I can repay. If we didn't have you there for backup, I know things would have turned out differently."

"Any help would be appreciated."

"Yeah, speaking of help… you know, with Diana gone—" The painful thought threatened to choke me, but I plugged on anyway. "With her gone, we're going to have to fill up a spot on the team. You handled yourself pretty well in the park. I was hoping maybe you'd come on with us full time."

The ganger worked his mouth as he thought it over. "Tempting. I'll have to give it some skull sweat. It'd be hard to walk away from the Razors. I've got duties there."

I gave him a smirk. "Is sitting on the steps an official gang duty now?"

He returned the smile as he twisted out of his seat—a feat made more difficult with only one arm. He finally stood and draped his jacket over his shoulders. "I gotta head out now, but I'll give you my answer in a couple of days."

"Good enough. Take care of yourself, chummer."

"Wait up," said Blitz, halting Bullnose in his tracks.

"Are you leaving, too?" I asked.

"Yeah. I know we saved the day and all that drek, but it doesn't feel like we won anything. I'm gonna go home and crash."

I knew self-medication would be involved, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I nodded like I understood. "Okay. I'll forward your share of the money after I get it deposited. You be careful, you hear me?"

He flashed me a half-hearted smile. "You know me, P. I'll be okay."

"Alright. See you later, _omae_."

The two young men headed for the door, talking about sharing a cab on their way home. As the door opened, the pattering rain drowned out anything else they were saying. Soon enough they were gone, leaving Sugar and me to ourselves. I brought the cigarette up to my lips again, staring out the window.

"Peaches?"

I looked over at Sugar where she sat, gazing up at me with doleful eyes.

"Lose the cig. It's not helping anything."

For a moment I just looked at her—gazing down at the understanding expression on her face. Then I took the cigarette from my mouth and mashed it into the ash tray.

The glowing end died—just as so many lives had been snuffed out over the past week. Diana was gone. Jesus was dead, and so were Michelson and Blondie. But that was the way of the 'plex. If you weren't smart enough to get out of the way or tough enough to stand up to the punishment, it would run you over like a steam roller.

But despite all of that, I was alive. Looking back on it, I couldn't exactly tell how I'd done it, but there I was, still living—still breathing. I'd lost a good friend in the process, but I survived.

A sorrowful ache began to well up in my chest at the thought of it, but then I felt Sugar's hand fold around mine, letting me know that she was there—that she understood.

And somehow, that was enough.

I squeezed her hand and turned back toward the window, watching as rivulets of rain water cascaded down the glass. Somewhere out in the concrete jungle, a siren howled.

The End


End file.
